


Losing yourself

by Kippen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, F/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kippen/pseuds/Kippen
Summary: Scotland, Hogwarts, 8 May 1998She watched as Harry Potter fell, lifeless onto the ground.For the second time that day Hermione J Granger stared at the corpse of her best friend and could feel her heart be ripped, unceremoniously out. Leaving only a gaping cavern inside her. Her limbs went lax and she could feel everything, herself, the world.Collapsing.What if the golden trio lost and the light fell. What if Hermione Granger was the only one left in a world where Voldemort won. And what if Hermione went all the way back, before Riddle even stepped foot on Hogwarts grounds. Be warned that this will be a dark Hermione with no happy story or moral choices.(Trigger warnings in this are serious and if you have any trauma or can be hurt by any subject please take this warning seriously and most if not all subjects should not be taken seriously as I am no expert and this is meant to be pretty depraved in many ways. I apologize before hand if I offend or mishandle anything. Thank you to any who read as I know this isn't a very popular theme and will not appeal to a large audience.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note: disclaimer I own nothing all credit goes to J.K Rowling. I'd like to warn people ahead of time there is sexual content, violence, death, gore, assault, mental health, etc (Can't name it all I'm not entirely sure myself). I apologize if I mishandle any subject I am not expert. I'd also like to note that nothing I write should be taken seriously nor should it be aspired to, if something I write offends or hurts I am really sorry but this is your opportunity before hand to not go through that if you have certain triggers. Again if you feel I am doing something wrong you can let me know but this story is supposed to be fairy brutal, so I hope I can clearly state that this will not be perfect or sending a good moral or message. So no one should copy any behaviors written about. Sorry for the mini rant and thank you for reading!

______________Story begins____________

Scotland, Hogwarts, 8 May 1998

She watched as Harry Potter fell, lifeless onto the ground.

For the second time that day Hermione J Granger stared at the corpse of her best friend and could feel her heart be ripped, unceremoniously out. Leaving only a gaping cavern inside her. Her limbs went lax and she could feel everything, herself, the world.

Collapsing.

They should have listened, if they did they would have at least had a fighting chance. How could you fight darkness, killing curses, blood boiling, poisons, and the ensued madness without first understanding it. No one on the light knew, really knew. If only they would have listened if she told them what her research revealed about dark magic. Then she could have warned them, that they never had a chance.

Swaying slightly she stared at the same spot where he fell. Sound muffled to a ringing and her vision tunneled, sole focus being on the limp body with now marbled, faded green eyes that stared blankly at a collapsed collom. She could feel her throat rip as screaming escaped from her and her body stumbled forward. She vaguely registered someone restraining her thrashing body and pulling her away as lights flashed by and the chaos resumed.

Bodys blurred in her vision and each fell, one by one, smoke and blood filling her nostrils as the scene before her seemed to grow further and further away.

The last thing she saw through teary eyes before being tossed around a crumbling wall was Ron's outstretched hand as he threw a fake coin (she immediately recognized as one from Dumbledore's army) her way. His face contorted into panicked horror, one that you would only picture on a petrified animal, cornered and broken. With a green light flashing behind him, growing larger until it enveloped him bring him down with it.

The moment the cold metal of the coin hit the outside of her hand the battle seemed pause for only a millisecond.

She saw Voldemort, laughing, eyes burning like embers slit and glistening, standing over the fallen Harry Potter's corpse as he held up the elder wand. It was a scene right out of her worst nightmare, with black smoke rising blotting out the sky and a flurry of dark figures cursing, torturing, and maiming those she grew up with and cared for. She could see them, all of them and each one perish. Only in the moment it was numb and cold. She felt like a spectator to it all and the information just wasn't processing as fast as it came in.

Soon the paus was over and she felt a familiar hook behind her naval and the world spun and the ground beneath her disappeared.

It was almost like those spinning amusement rides, if they flung you into the air.

With no grace or care, Hermione was spewn out landing harshly, knocking the wind out of her and skidding roughly against hardware floor. Muscles that were tired and overworked refused to move from the pure soreness. Her wounds no longer a dull ache or sting became raging slashes that felt like lava was being poured over them,

adrenaline could no longer help her now.

Indignant wails broke through her vocal cords and a cacophony of cries followed. Like a rag thrown, hermione's body lay crumpled as she sobbed, mourning.

She could hear soft shuffling around her and the grumble of Kreacher walk past.

Hot tears trailed down her face, burning the skin it touched and she could feel herself slip out along with the liquid, pooling out into nothing. Like the feeling in her was a dying candle, flickering out and smoking. One she was desperately trying to grasp onto, to keep what little warmth she got from it.

All of them,

all those she cared about were dead.

The order and her friends, Lost.

The light had been snuffed out and she was plunged into darkness.


	2. The new world

London, England, 12 January 1999

 

From Hermione's camp she could see a pillar of smoke rise in the distance, a cloud of death she recognized well.

She knew it was coming from a distant town, a muggle one she had visited briefly for supplies. In the sky a looming skull with a snake slithering out, formed in the clouds a sign of the dark lord and sign to pack up and move along.

Walking back down the hill she stood on Hermione headed right for the camp pulling out (the still unloyal) Bellatrix's wand and silently packed the tent in her beaded bag. This time she paused only momentarily when pulling out Harry's cloak, then quickly draping it over herself as she disapparated on the spot.

Shortly after she found herself standing in a long hallway, with gas lamps and a large overhead chandelier both bent and distorted.

It was cold with drafts howling, the once peeling wallpaper scorched and black, the carpet that was worn thin and faded now was a part of a pile of ash on the ground. 12 Grimmauld Place no longer had the sounds of order meetings or rushed footsteps of twins, or mollys cooking drifting in the only smell to drift through the air was char and smoke.

Wasting no time Hermione b-lined to the library rushing past an especially scorched mark where Walburgas portrait once was letting the twisting dizzying hallways lead her.

Soon arriving at the large oak doors she burst through causing dust to fly everywhere. Casting a quick lumos she gathered as many tomes, scrolls, and writings she could fit in her bag. She knew she had been cutting it too close more and more, each time she had set up camp the death eaters showed up sooner and inched closer to her. There were no wanted posters for her, no newspaper articles nothing that would indicate them looking for her. But there was a constant feeling and need to hide because- well it just made no sense. Did the death eaters not look at the bodys did they not notice she was missing or worse did they not care. Huffing she threw a book into her bag rougher than necessary. She would have thought being the brains of the golden trio would put a target on her back or even make her one of the most wanted.

But there was nothing, radio silence.

She shook herself out of her thoughts, she needed to focus. Collect all the books and get out.

When she first landed in the Black home (and could move) she lived as if a dementor had sucked out her soul. Sleeping, waking, eating, and sitting.

Sitting still for hours staring off into blank space, all thoughts and emotions wiped clean, nonexistent.

For weeks the same routine would happen unbroken and trancelike. It was only when she was walking down the stairs and she bumped into Kreacher in front of Walburgas screaming portrait that the routine was broken.

"Filthy filthy mud, all over my house! Dirtying it up, tainting its hallowed halls!" Walburga screeched from her frame. Kreacher fumbling to calm her hobbled over "Kreacher is sorry, Kreacher is to blame. He has been unable to..." looking back at Hermione he glowered "purge, this mud from the grounds". Hermione stood, face blank and unchanging, just looking down at the house elf that spat on her, mocked her, tormented her all of her stay. The portrait continued on its tirade ignoring the elfs feeble attempts at calming as Hermione just stood, watching.

This anger, the kind of hatred for her kind. It's the same kind that took everything from her, the same kind that is destroying what's left of the world. The same kind that shot red hot fury through her.

Her hand tightened on the grip of the crooked 12¾" Walnut, dragon heartstring as her face slowly contorted into a focused enraged glare.

"You certainly are confident, especially with that permanent sticking charm you have there." Hermione spat with more venom than she thought herself possible at the portrait. Walburga seemed to ignore the words said to her as she continued as if no one had responded "It is a disgrace, an outrage, CRIMINAL! If-"

her last words were cut short when Hermione whipped her wand up and sent a particularly uncontrolled Fiendfyre hurdling in the portraits direction.

A roaring sound ripped through the air and a beast of a fire flared out and moved without reason toward the painting.

The elf, before disappearing behind the mass of fire clung onto the portrait. Even in the face of certain death, he was unwilling to leave the image of his former master. A loyalty that made her anger spike more and with it the fires intensity.

Soon as reality struck her, she was clamoring around trying to put out the fire now enveloping the house.

Looking back Hermione knew that it was impulsive, reckless and in a moment of great weakness for her but in that moment she herself was blinded by hate and maliciousness. But she couldn't stop, not after that. It was an outlet for her anger, her pain and she knew it was selfish but she didn't much care not when there wasn't anyone left who could be outraged by it. Hell, the world she now lived in was primarily only dark witches and wizards and the only ones to stop her or condemn it were dead.

For quite some time she had been studying dark magic, Harry may not have liked it but he did... sometimes understand even if he didn't know the true extent of it.

Not even dumbledore knew how much she dipped into the void of dark magic, Hermione had thought it didn't matter how much she read about it or learned about it, to her it was unimaginable that she would fall into the pool, only teater on the edge. Kind of similar to when she went to the zoo, looking in at caged animals many of whom wouldn't hesitate to kill her if the bars between them were gone. But those bars were now gone and the beast tore into her more violently than she would have ever thought. Those bars, her friends. The caretakers, her parents. The zoo itself, the light. All of them were gone, she was now in the wild and slowly being devoured.

Her hands shook as she placed the last book in her bag, she had to go. Far, as far away as she could where no one could find her.

Taking one last nostalgic look at the room Hermione sighed and disapparated once more, as far away as she could.

 

 

Hogsmeade, Scotland, 2 May 1999

 

Hermione looked off at the school grounds, put back together as if nothing happened.

It just wasn't ever going to be the same, she would never not see broken walls, fires raging, and total destruction of the very foundation the school stood on. She couldn't not see blood spattered on the ground staining it seeping into the soil or the permeating scent of burning flesh and ash.

But the screams, that's what she still could hear echo in the wind, what they couldn't purge from the grounds. The hollow cry shrieking out, begging for someone, anyone to save them.

She assumed that if the order had won they would have done the same with the school, clean it up put it back together. After all life went on and a new generation needed to be educated.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, the new generation would be molded into whatever Riddle wanted, whatever sick ideas he had for his ideal world. A world where people like her, muggles and muggleborns alike were no better than animals to be slaughtered. Where someone like her could not exist.

Turning back she wandered the now abandoned village, it had always been quite small but after the fall of the light she assumed any person who fled for the final battle just never returned out of fear. All but the Hog's head inn, Aberforth refused to leave to bend to anyone but his own will. The only people to wander the empty town were of the dogey type and she supposed in this new world she fit that type.

Passing the three broomsticks she stopped looking at the now unkempt building, it was funny how fast something could fall into disrepair. The sign only had one hinge holding on as it swung in the wind, the wood panels were splintered and the doors metal handle was missing.

Approaching the creaking building Hermione lightly pushed the door open and let it swing open the rest of the way. Revealing a musty rotted inside, walking up to the bar she saw chipped cups empty and thrown around, a crusty looking liquid in a cauldron and dried up meals left in place.

It appeared that everyone in the room suddenly vanished, not caring to clean up or pack away their things.

Letting her hand graze over the railing upstairs she made her way down to the rented rooms. Going through each one she saw personal items, trunks, suitcases, and toiletries left out and forgotten.

She loathed how pathetic it was but Hermione ransacked each room looking for any item of use or more importantly galleons. Hermione felt pathetic and like a street rat doing it but she was in no position to be picky, living off the grid was difficult and there were times when she would stay at a dingy pub to have a proper cooked meal and bed, sometimes it was for the albeit poor but much needed company. Even if her definition of company was being in the same room as people. It was still nice, after months in the wilderness or being plunged into a particularly nasty branch of the dark arts. It was almost like a spring in the desert and would pull her back to reality even if it was only for a moment.

When she reached the last room and was perusing its contents she paused when she got to the last suitcase, she had saved it for last for times sake when she noticed it had particularly heavy wards.

Pulling out the walnut wand she aimed it at the case sending diagnostic after diagnostic to it. After some time and a lot of analyzing Hermione found that the magic was faintly familiar and the wards were a tad on he dark side. Nothing serious luckly, only a few safeguards to destroy its contents if tampered with by a clumsy hand or the mediocre thief.

It was a good thing that Hermione was neither.

It was a smart idea to get moving soon so she stashed the case in her bag for later, as a form of something to do and headed back down the rickety steps.

She had so many memories here, of her time with Harry and Ron. The memories of laughing and conversing with friends, something she could never have again. Like the Jewish people in nazi occupied Poland people who she once knew would turn her away or report her in without hesitation all for their own safety. Hermione didn't blame them, it was human after all to want to save yourself.

Looking up at the pub she silently sighed, the sooner she got over it the better off she'd be.

Walking towards the bar she let her hand trail across it as she passed by. With the slightly ajar door a pair of people talking outside could clearly be heard. Pausing she summoned Harry's cloak and flung it around herself then silencing her footsteps.

Slowly she approached the voices, after all she went through she knew it was best to always be cautious.

A harsh whisper that hounded hissed carried into her ears "It's got to be here, the dark lord would not have sent us if it wasn't. Its something of the oily traitors, something no one can know about" Hermione froze, she knew that voice. Just as Hermione backed away from the door it was thrown open, hitting the adjacent wall with a loud crack.

A gaunt haughty figure strode in with dark long hair trailing behind. The figure of Bellatrix and what looked to be Dolohov strode in, the woman was sauntering around looking quickly at her surroundings.

Hermione couldn't believe her luck and timing.

What were the odds of this, insanely thin no doubt.

The wand in Hermione's hand seemed to humm in the presence of the woman it was so fiercely loyal to. Pausing Bellatrix held up her hand and Dolohov stopped, in a manic tone she spoke "somethings- wrong. I can feel it, somewhere." she took slow steps scanning the room around her.

From under the cloth Hermione watched holding her hand over her mouth standing deathly still. She could not let them catch her, they couldn't even get a glimpse, if they did then she would likely have to fight and the odds of two much more practiced dulests against a girl who hasn't had a real duel in a year.

Her heart stopped, that's right, it had been exactly a year. A year of running from shadows, a year of breaking every moral rule she thought she had and a year of sinking deeper, deeper into madness.

She didn't care what they were after, it was long ago that she cared about their affairs, after all what was the point, she lost.

The anniversary of the death of her world.

An icy emptiness gripped onto her chest as she watched the crazed witch and wizard approach her, slowly narrowing in on her.

Did she really want to run, it was a perfect opportunity one she had previously let ghost her thoughts. Was it worth the risk, it didn't seem like she had much of a choice. Sure she could disapparate but that would be too easy and a part of her wanted to fight them more than she wanted to run.

A spindly hand reached out towards her, making up her mind Hermione shot a stunner Dolohov's way before he could draw his wand, ducking behind an overturned table, clinging onto the cloak.

A bright flash with a bang was sent to the spot she previously stood and on impact splinters flew everywhere with dust into the air. A screech rung out as Bellatrix shot spell after spell, destroying the surrounding furnichure. Dust, debris, and splinters flew everywhere, it was clear the mad woman had been a spring coiled up ready to jump.

Hermione waited till everything settled before she peeked around the table, she only caught a glimpse of the woman standing crackling with fury before another spell shot her way sending herself and the table flying. The impact felt like it cracked a few ribs and various parts of her were profusely bleeding from the rough wood scraping over her. The cloak barely covered her and Hermione lay frozen amongst the destroyed furniture around her.

"I know you're there- I can smell the cowardice." she sniffed the air in a long inhale, cackling and stepping closer sending another chair flying into a wall.

"oooo I think I know you- where have we met. It had to of been recent? No?" he words ran into each other like the thought wasn't ever finished. Pausing the woman grinned, leisurely turning right to the spot hermione was sprawled out at.

"No matter, you'll be dead soon." she said aiming.

Moving fast Hermione levitated a chair behind Bellatrix to make a clattering sound and the moment the crazed woman whipped around to it Hermione shot up. The woman before her was the same who drove Neville's parents to insanity the same one who killed the only family Harry had, tourchered her, and killed countless of her friends.

"AVADA KEDAVRA"

the sound of a body hitting the ground was all to familiar, Hermione just never thought that it would ever be at her hand.

Remembering the taunts the now corpse of a mad woman told Harry when he tried to crucio her, Hermione looked down bitterly at it, Looks like the Mudblood meant it Mrs Lestrange.

Turning to the stunned form of Dolohov she pointed her wand and sent back the same spell that scarred her in the department of mysteries. She released him from his stunned state and stood for a while watching him sputter as he choked on his own oh so pure blood. His chest was split open in jagged cuts and she could see ribs poke out and blood drenched innards exposed that slowly slid out.

She felt the cold icy feeling return its grip as she stood with the two corpses she created.

A tear trailed down her splotchy cheek, a tear separate from her, a tear not shed by her now but by the ghost of her righteous self.

Hermione's fingers reflexively went up to it and lightly touched it, the last remnants of her innocence.

After a quick attempt to apparate she realized she had quite a walk ahead of her as one of the two death eaters had already put up an anti-disapparition jinx. She supposed it was good that she couldn't run immediately away like she was going to, because it dawned on her that she had two bodys to get rid of.

Holding up the wand, she paused. The happy humming it was emitting before from the presence of Bellatrix continued even now, it couldn't be. Hermione checked Lestranges pulse... yet nothing. Looking back at the wand it dawned on her, did killing its old master gain allegiance. It was possible but did that mean she was just as depraved to have won its loyalty?

Shaking herself out of her thoughts Hermione got to work in getting rid of the body's.

"Deletrius" she whispered aiming towards Dolohov's body and it slowly flaked and disintegrated. Doing the same for Bellatrix she then vanished the dust and rushed out of the door leaving behind the building.

Half of her was still not believing what just happened the other half was relishing how satisfying it was. Dolohov's last look of this world staring into her eyes knowing who was killing him and Bellatrix, Hermione never thought she would ever be able to touch the woman.

But now, now her soul was broken and she had killed them both.

Walking faster through the town she tried to hurry to a point that she could apparate away. What could she do, she assumed there wouldn't be no repercussions for killing them. But what it would be she had no idea, just something in her gut told her she needed to go, run far away and never look back.

But where could she go? At least where could she go where she could live in peace, in a bed, without hiding.

Was it too much to ask to have that, no- she new she could never have that not in this world not now.

Reaching a point where she could leave she stopped and stood and had to restrain herself from looking back as she vanished with a loud pop.

 

 

Scotland Tweed valley, 4 July 1999

 

Crouching in a clearing the trees rustled around her as she sent spell after spell at the thing in front of her, the sun was setting but she pushed on with the barrage of spells.

Hermione was so close, only a few more wards away from cracking the case literally. She begrudgingly admitted that it was a lot harder to break open the case than she initially thought. But as she dug deeper through the wards they got more complex and harder to work with, once she got rid of one three more would pop up.

But now she was close to the end and she almost had the case open.

It had been a few weeks till she had gotten around to trying to crack it, once she started it had been non-stop.

Traveling forest to forest, outside of the ministry's reach somewhere no one could stumbleupon her.

Though it gave her something to do (she could never just sit around doing nothing) for some reason she could feel her mind becoming grainy, slipping from her. When she tried to fight it regain herself it felt like it became worse, her fear seemed to amplify it.

It was like the echo of a headache permeated her head constantly.

Some nights she'd stay up (no matter how hard she tried to sleep) laying on her side taking in jagged breaths as she sobbed, her mind feeling like a hundred people were yelling- screaming at her all at once and nasty words were whispered to her, unrepeatable words.

Other nights she would have nightmares- but not really, they were like she was awake but at the same time dreaming, of places and people who weren't there.

Like a fever dream but one her eyes were open for, she knew it wasn't sleep paralysis she could move but in the moment she wouldn't know she was dreaming.

When she woke from them it would take some time for her to realize they weren't real, the life she was living in them never happened. But the more they happened the longer it would take for reality to set in, the longest took her two days to remember her name- real name that is.

The dreams were never pleasant, they were the horror stories of the muggle world brought to life. She would always be a muggle and it was like she had always lived in that world, the dream world. People she saw and talked to it was like she'd always known them and it was like she had memories of living there in that life.

Then it melted away and would become corrupted. The landscape would change or people would just disappear. Then a monster would appear, one that was otherworldly even to the wizarding world with features that seemed to be there just to be terrifying. And she would be hunted, running.

Painting with sweat drenching herself she let out a frustrated cry and sent a maroon light hurtling into the brown luggage.

A loud click sounded and the top slowly opened, staring at it for a while she then took a hesitant step towards it.

Nothing had popped out and attacked her so far so she guessed it was safe to approach.

Once she was within reaching distance her hand carefully grasped the corner and brought the lid further up. A sharp inhale followed when the contents registered in her head. This trunk belonged to Severus, thinking back to what Bellatrix said oily traitor she took a guess that they were there for the trunk, the one that she now held and looked upon.

The entire contents were dedicated to one specific subject of research.

Time travel.

Well sort of, it wasn't the kind that would take you back in time in a traditional sense. No this was for a way to go back and create a branching path from your time, whatever you left behind would never change but you could create something new.

Not like the time turner, this would make it so you could be seen, could change major events. The only drawback would be knowing any change you made did nothing to help your timeline. It would still be as you left it and you could do nothing to change that.

The notes he took indicated he intended to make a world where he could have Lilly a world where James Potter never existed with a side note of stopping Voldemort.

Hermione couldn't stop a short snort from escaping her, this did indeed give her ideas but none of them involved a different end to the story.

No she just couldn't forge up enough care or interest in changing what's happened, after all it would do nothing for her, it would be a lie. Her friends were dead the world was gone, if she went back it wouldn't be her world.

It seemed that Snape had thoroughly planned it all out and it soon became clear to as to why.

You could only do it once.

For all the impressive work he did it seemed that you could go back mind intact and genetic makeup with whatever you travel with- just, well... it seemed the mode of travel still had some kinks in it.

There was no telling what going back further than your birth would do, nor how the outcome would vary based off of intent and while you could go back the fabric of time wasn't so accommodating the second time, certain death was ensured if a person attempted a second run at it.

Hermione knew she was absolutely not going to go back to any time the war had already broken out, it would be far too dangerous. But the further back she traveled the more risk she was at, she supposed settling on the Jr days of Riddle would be fine as long as she got out of the country soon after.

Pulling the papers out she smiled to herself, this was exactly the opportunity she needed.

Brining the materials back to her tent she got to work right away.

She knew not changing the outcome of the war was selfish but she was done fighting, she just wanted to be alone, free. Even more selfish when she planned on sterilizing her ancestors in the new timeline, loose ends and all that.

 

 

England London, 31 December 1999

 

It was time,

she had her bag tucked away in her boot and the ritual was set up.

She couldn't get the year to an exact but it should be between 1900 and 1950 a great range if you asked her.

Calming her nerves she grabbed the cup at the center of the white circle. A foul muddied red liquid oozed from it, gulping she brought the grotesque drink to her lips and threw it back. She gagged as it made its way down and just as fast as she finished it pain shot up her spine and she clutched her chest as she let out a cry and collapsed. But she knew she had to continue, otherwise she could never attempt it again. Muttering the alien words to her mouth she spoke in a druid like tongue, rapidly and breathily. Her hands started to shake as her pores seemed to darken and grow but soon a dark liquid spilt over them revealing it to be an unnatural cut. Wincing she pushed on letting the words escape even as her vision spotted.

As the last words left her she could feel the world around her suck all the heat out and it felt as if the ground vanished beneath her as conciseness slipped from her grasp.


	3. New life

England London, 31 December 1933

 

She could feel it, something was wrong, very, very wrong.

Wriggiling in her now far too large shoes Hermione struggled to push herself off of the ground. Looking around herself she examined the alley she now found herself in. It was dark, damp, and smelled of rot. Dirt was smudged all over her clothes that now fitted around her more like a blanket.

Hermione let out a groan as she sat up, her body felt like it had been run over and was adamantly protesting moving.

She brought her hand up to her head to rub a temple to combat the splitting headache that was flaring up and froze. Bringing her hand back in front of her eyes she turned it over a few times.

It wasn't possible, or at least shouldn't have been but then again traveling back decades wasn't supposed to be too. She had known that there was a good amount of unknown as to the side effects of traveling as far back as she did. But this was the worst possible outcome of that, should she have prepared more and tried to counter this before traveling... could she have even known this would happen.

Standing up and pulling her bag out Hermione summoned a mirror. She looked at her reflection leaning in, it was erie to say the least. The face of her eight year old self looked back at her, mimicking her expressions. This was bad, so incredibly bad. There was no way a child could apparate internationally let alone function in the way she had been the past year and a half.

She could feel herself start to hyperventilate and fall against a wall for support.

This was so incredibly unfair, just when she thought she could start anew-

wait but isn't this exactly what she wanted.

To start again, what better way than to go through adolescence again. It made sense that she couldn't be a baby, that would only leave her vulnerable after all there was no one to take care of her. It was a lot easier to gain an identity now, legally too. She could just claim she grew up on the street. She'll have to get 'caught' though but that shouldn't be too hard. Yes she could work with this and at the very least she still had her stuff. Speaking of which she needed to blend in, but first she needed to know the date.

Peeking around the corner she could see a paper at the top of a rubbish bin. Summoning it to herself she looked at the date, 31 of December 1933. Flipping through to a small portrait of a family on one of the pages Hermione transfigured her sweater into a similar outfit as a small girls, just a whole lot more 'homeless' in the style. She looked down at herself and nodded to herself, it was a tad baggy but it would have to do.

Looking down at her feet she frowned. It was snowing and was especially cold but she knew she had a look to complete.

Taking off her shoes she stored them in her bag and pulled the drawstrings around her head letting it rest on her neck. Before she put her wand away she warded it and stuck it to herself. Brushing off the hem of the now dress she moved onward, close to a police station.

After an hour of wandering her feet started to sting from the snow and the city had changed so much from now and the future she quickly realized she had no clue as to where she was or going.

The storms intensity increased and she was unable to see clearly past her outstretched arm. Shivering and numb her body started to not respond to her and she slowly crumpled against a wall. As her eyes closed she could hear the crunch of footsteps approach.

When consciousness returned to her she turned over on her other side burying herself further into bedsheets.

Bedsheets?

Hermione's eyes flew open and she was greeted with the sight of a sterile, bare looking room. Shooting up she flinched half way as her body was still throbbing. Taking a better look around she was able to determine she was in what seemed to be an early 20th century hospital. Coughing and the smell of disinfectant surrounded her leaving her even more nauseated.

She grasped at her neck and relaxed when she felt the bag, right she had made sure it would stick with her.

Soon she heard the echo of footsteps approach her and she looked over in its direction. A man in a dull brown suit with neatly slicked back hair approached with a nurse in toe. He held an equally dull brown case and had the look of someone who had done whatever he was doing a thousand times before. It soon became clear the pairs destination was herself and Hermione straitened up.

Clearing his throat and pulling over a metal chair he sat, still not looking at her as he opened the case and pulled out some papers with a pen in hand.

The nurse was a petite woman who stumbled a little as she pulled a clipboard from the foot of her bed and read over its contents.

The woman spoke first "found last night, no name or any identification, suffering of hypothermia and exhaustion. A civilian came by her and brought her in. Likely homeless." she finished and glanced over at the man who was now taking notes. Nodding as he finished his last notes he looked up at Hermione and addressed her "do you know your name, parents, and residence" Hermione watched him for a moment before responding "Hermione Jean Granger (no point in lying) my parents are dead... I don't have a home" to the point and just enough. He seemed surprised at her forthcomingness and jotted some things down. Looking back up he followed up "relatives, close family acquaintances?"

"None"

he wrote some more "medical records, schooling, documentation" she took a moment to work out what she was going to say and came up with "I don't think so, I have no memory of it. I've been like this since as long as I can remember" his brow furrowed but he continued writing "I'll make sure to arrange the proper documentation" the nurse piped up and the man just nodded in response.

Clicking his pen closed he stood and spoke to her one last time before turning on his heel and walking out "a social worker will be called to collect you soon". Hermione watched shocked, looking at the man walk away. That was certainly quick not that she was complaining, she guessed it was a lot easier for a child to gain identification rather than an adult for the obvious reasons. Such as how could a child with a british accent, found on the street be trying to fake an identity.

It was now the nurses turn to pull out a pen and start asking questions "Date of birth?" Hermione turned her attention the woman at the foot of her bed, sighing she spoke "19th of september 1926" the woman scribled the information down and continued to pepper her with questions.

Days would pass and by the third one she had the necessary paperwork. She was a citizen of 1934 Britain in every legal sense. It was as if she always existed here and now she had the identity to do with as she pleased. Staring down at the documentation Hermione smiled to herself and after thoroughly reviewing the papers she glanced around then after seeing the coast was clear pulled out her wand. Copying the papers she stowed the originals in her bag and hastily put the wand back as well.

On the fourth day at the hospital another man came to her, this time in a pinstripe suit and wavy hair. He actually introduced himself as the social worker who was there to take her to an orphanage and had helped her into an (at least to her) antique car.

During the ride she looked out at the economically devastated London, it was odd seeing it in person instead of images. Seeing scrawny children walking hand in hand with broken parents and homeless everywhere.

The man spoke to her in the car, "It was hard to find an orphanage with open space in these times, but I'm sure anywhere is better than out there" he gestured with his thumb to the streets passing by. "Most kids from the streets have been documented from being captured and running away from their placements repeatedly. I was surprised to find out you were so old and to still not have a record of being caught or... well any record to speak of. But I guess this years winter was especially harsh and you have to start somewhere." her brow rose at that, was that his idea of a joke? She guessed yes as he chuckled and continued "I think you may be the oldest one I've encountered, who knows maybe you'll stay at the place once you get a taste of sheltered life" he chuckled again she scowled. "Oh, looks like were here" at this she looked over to where his head was turned and right as the name of the building processed she felt her spirit leave her.

WOOL'S ORPHANAGE lettered in rusted blocks hung over a gate that lead to a back alley run down building squished between two meat packing factories.

How lovely.

The man got out of the car and went to the trunk getting something out as Hermione sat in place refusing to get out. The man pulled the door open with a suitcase in hand. Catching her stare he misinterpreted and lifted the case and spoke "I know these times are hard and it may not be required but you've lived a tough life. When I read your file I felt for you. I've only told the staff your parents died, kids here aren't too kind to those who grew up on the streets. In a small show of human compassion and help for that cover I bought you some basic things" he winded and pulled her out of the car.

This poor man didn't know his compassion was wasted, she was in no need of whatever he gave her. It should have been used on a child who needed it, but she couldn't tell him that.

"Now you can keep the case, but I'm not telling you what's in it" he winked "its a suprise" She almost sighed, she knew how uncommon this kind of action was in these time and it was tragic how wasted they were on her. The least she could do was know his name.

The man rapped on the door and Hermione turned to him "can I know your name, sir" she stared up at him, as an adult it would have been a serious look but as a child it must have been a heart melting orphan pitying look. The man's face melted and as the door swung open he said "Wendell Granger" she felt as if she was punched in the gut.

Oh no.

Sharing a surname certainly helped her in gaining his pity but she knew her grandfathers full name, now that she took a closer look he did resemble her late father with noticeably tamer hair.

This did help her when eliminating the possibility of being born in this timeline but the question was get it over with now or save it for later. Being pulled into an entry hall she took a break from her internal debate to take in her surroundings.

It was decrepit but no worse than anywhere she had been for the last couple of years. The presumably, Ms Cole and her grandfather left her in the hall alone with the new luggage as they exchanged the proper information and documents. She truly wished she had gotten more out of Harry when he told her about the memories Dumbledore shared with him. Besides what happened in them she never got more from Harry in description other than "even then he looked like a total gitt" which really didn't narrow it down.

Hermione noticed a boy peeking around the corner of the immaculate dull grey walls. She pretended not to notice him, mainly because she herself was still puzzling over how she had gotten herself here. Before it all was like a dream, the time travel, the hospital, the people. But now she realized she had years ahead of her and she would be spending them here in this world in this time in this orphanage.

Snapping her gaze to the boy, that was right she would be spending years here with these people with voldemort the man who destroyed her world. At his most vulnerable.

The boy jumped a fraction but covered it up by scowling and tightening his grip on the wall corner. What was his problem? Hermione just raised her eyebrow and kept a blank face. For some reason that seemed to provoke him as his scowl turned to a glower and his lip quirked up to show him baring his teeth like she was particularly foul.

She was a grown woman in a child's body and she would only get older as the years passed, children being nasty no longer had the desired effect. Honestly it was like a toddler trying to hurt her feelings, it had no impact... meant nothing.

The boy was pale, unnaturally so and had dark features with perfectly combed hair. He was on the slightly thin side but was clearly tall for his age. She assumed they were in close age ranges.

Hermione heard the adults returning footsteps and straightened up. No more distractions, it's time to make a decision. She didn't think she would run into her grandfather again naturally, but now she knew his profession and had many threads that would lead back to him in the future. She could grow some years and claim to want to find the man who touched her heart with his kindness. Hermione never thought of herself as a procrastinator but how could she get away with sterilizing the man in front of another child and muggle woman.

She didn't hear the farwell the man gave as he was walking out the door, she knew she would have to swallow the spell in her throat and wave goodbye waiting for a later time to prevent her birth.

Looking up at the thin sharp woman Hermione picked up the bag. It was odd being addressed, talked to. She had spent so long in silence only with her thoughts that it always felt like an out of body experience or as if she was viewing all this. All the talking people, talking to her and being a part of civilization no matter how small a role, was odd to say the least.

"I'll lead you to your room, let you get settled. Once dinner is ready I'll send for someone to get you- introduce you to everyone." the matron put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly "you'll find there's no need to worry about a thing, there's no need now. You have a roof, hot meals, and a warm bed" releasing her hand, Hermione felt the warmth it brought flee with the hand and it took some self control not to reach for the hand. She wasn't aware of how much she craved that warmth, after the small sample of it gotten from the tightly coiled woman she felt like an addict needing more. But she needed to control herself to not make a fool over it.

Walking up tight stairs she took one last glance back at the boy who she saw was gone from his previous spot.

He had to of been autistic or some variant of it, not that anyone from this time knew about autism. The poor boy was probably tormented,

luckily that wasn't her problem.

Ms Cole led her to a room that had a bed and wardrobe both looking worse for wear. "This will be where you sleep, girls and boys are separated by left, right and if you should need... the loo its down the hall passing the boys side with a ladies sign"

the woman hurried out waspy grey hair flying out of her tight bun.

Hermione walked up to her new bed and placed the suitcase on it with a loud creak. Her hands grazed over the lock and she flicked them up. Pulling up the lid revealed a grey wool coat, knitted and thick with gloves to match. Two pairs of shoes one winter the other for warmer weather and a summer dress.

Well damn, this was useful.

She knew she couldn't be going around using her wand or leaving transfigured things in wash. Not when soon a transfiguration professor would be coming to collect a young Tom. Even more so when a scarily bright young Riddle already suspected his magical gift, so that crossed off wand and wandless magic. She was stuck living as a muggle.

Running her hand along a lumpy seem a small leather notebook fell out along with a small pencil. Now this gave her something to do.

"I am here to get you" a voice said, clearly a young boy trying desperately to copy some soldier or military person or at least what he thought one sounded like. Turning she faced a slightly stout boy with copper brown hair and freckles across his nose and cheeks. He looked disheveled but proud. He held out a sweaty hand "Billy Stubbs, I'll protect you fair lady" the boy took another look at her "fair gal" he said nervously giggling with a blush.

Good Godric she couldn't understand the 30's children's behaviors.

"Protect me? Prey tell what do I need it from?" crap she did not sound the part. That's what you get from months in a forest! "O-oh right, u... u-m well the... beast" he was certainly more brutish but the child did remind her slightly of Nevil so from habit she entertained his delusions.

"How gentlemanly" she said walking with the boy out of her new room. "Everyones playing outside right now" hastily he added "but dinner will be ready soon too".

The boy led her to a door that opened up to a snow filled lot with a bare tree in the corner.

A group of children were playing in the snow and others were having a snowball fight and by the only tree that boy sat alone, the same one that glared at her reading alone in his corner. She now knew who it was.

Turning away from the future dark lord she saw Billy rush over to a crate around a corner.

After a moment he popped back around the corner and waved her over.

Great.

Walking over she found him crouching over a box and he glanced back tense but relaxed once he saw her. "I have something incredible to show you" he said, (a tad roughly) pulling her down. Hermione peered into the box and saw a small white rabbit shivering in a corner, she was about to say something about it before he interrupted.

"Found him in fall, just hiding in the garbage. I saved him you know" he jabbed his thumb into his chest as he gave her a proud grin. Then he leaned in "would you like to pet him, you know I haven't let anyone pet 'em. Only Amy and Eric know but I 'don let them touch it." she grimaced and nodded.

She just needed to blend in, not make any impact to just breeze by her time here.

" 'ey Billy what are ya- is that a rabbit!" a scratchy boisterous voice called from behind them. Turning she saw a blonde boy with brown eyes and round face looking at them. "Hey gang, com'n over here" he turned waving to others. "Dennis come on, don-" his last words were cut off by a group rushing over. They all seemed to be her age and of the same friend group.

Pulling the box away Dennis held it up "look what Billy's got" the kids gathered round and clamored over the petrified animal quickly forgetting she was there.

"Amy stop pokin' it" Billy complained to a scrawny girl with dusty brown hair and hazel eyes who was a good deal shorter than the boys. "You really are a hero Billy, saving this poor creature" Amy squeaked. At her compliment Billy puffed up once more as he put his hands on his hips. "I know I'm following in the footsteps of my ol'man, he was a hero too. Served in the great war"

as the kids doted over Billy a cold detached voice spoke from behind them, it was like the opposite of Dennis was now calling to them all.

"More like a drunkard who couldn't hold down a job" they all turned and Billy's face went red.

Riddle stood, hands in pockets with an arm holding his book. Billy stormed up but when Riddle stepped forward he flinched back "l-listen here-" he started but was interrupted once more "what Billy, your hero fathers going to come after me?" Tom spat, teeth bare. Sputtering Billy had Dennis rush to his defense "Run along dilly boy, no one wants you here" Riddles eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Dennis and the kids grinned at the boy perceiving a victory, but she knew better, watching the entire interaction with a blank face. "Now what is that" Riddle hissed gesturing towards the rabbit and walking over to it.

"Riddle-" Billy yelled as he approached Tom. The other kids slinked away from Riddles path. "A rodent, you all came over here to gawk at a dying rodent?" Tom said and what shocked her was she could hear the subtleties of the angry tone, he was hurt.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was hurt, for what she couldn't say but it wasn't any less gobsmacking.

As Tom reached for the creature Billy yelled and yanked the arm holding the book "YOU'LL RUIN IT YOU MONSTER". The scene froze before her, of the shocked face of Tom with panic in his eyes as he watched the book slip from his grasp, the red one of Billy's with his fist slowly rising.

The book.

Years of bookworming and doting on the texts, embarrassingly enough didn't get snuffed out as easily as other things in her life.

Her hand shot out before she even noticed it and the books cover settled its weight in her grasp. Everyone froze and all eyes turned from her hand holding the book to her. Riddles along with everyone else's mouth hung open. Honestly what was the big deal she just caught a book?

Readjusting his gaze to Riddle Billy slugged him in the back of the head, never giving Tom time to recover from the apparent shock of her catching his book.

The boy fell to the ground with a thud and Billy pulled the box away. Eric went up to Riddle as Dennis pulled all the other kids away leaving Hermione.

Did she just pick a side? A loud stomp landed on Riddle then another from a still red Billy and Eric returned a kick.

Honestly, like she was going to help Voldemort... she already did didn't she? She mentally scowled, she wouldn't lie that she wasn't curious to see what he would do if she helped him but every bitter fiber of her wanted to sit back and pull out some popcorn to watch the dark lord get the crap kicked out of him.

Looking at the book in her hand she turned it over to the title, grimms fairy tales, merlin! Right he was still a kid. Groaning in her head. She hated this, yes she knew and rallied behind the idea that he was still a gitt but this was now just sad.

Just one more kick.

Thump! Once the last kick was given Hermione brought the book as far back as she could and swung it over Eric's head. The boy promptly fell over holding the back of his head cursing. Billy stopped his kicking and stared at her shocked, she assumed it was because of how unladylike what she did was.

"Yo-you" he said hand shaking and pointing. She brought the book back up and faked a swing making the boy flinch.

"Just get out of here, both of you" they scrambled seemingly deciding not to touch a girl.

Riddle struggled to push himself up and a groan that he forced into a growl escaped him. Silence sat between them, letting the wind howl and a light dusting of snow fly around, at least until Riddle broke the silence.

"What, do you think I'll be grateful" he ground out "think the poor, pathetic, boy needed your saving and now well skip and make flower crowns in newfound friendship" he nearly growled the last word but she was already well aware of his views on the matter.

Hermione rolled her eyes "that was indeed pathetic, but no your welcome to me earlier was enough to get the message across" she tossed the book back to him and he stumbled to catch it and quickly scrambled up. "How dare you. I didn't need your help, I don't need anyone's help! If you think I owe you I don't, In fact you owe me!"

That got her temper flaring "owe you? I didn't have to do a damn thing for you, you got it in the first guess. It was just too Pathetic I was embarrassed for you. And yes you do owe me and how you'll repay it is by staying far away from me! Get over yourself Riddle I want no part in your sideshow!" she stormed past him and she could hear his confused angry cry after her "Wha-" was all she heard before she was too far to hear him.

She kept walking until she was inside leaving behind an incredibly confused, fuming Riddle.

So much for blending in.

Dinner was an awkward affair, the kids quickly decided to out her like Riddle. As if it bothered her she was used to this kind of treatment at this age. She along with Riddle were forced to sit at the farthest end of the table but neither of them spoke to one another.

He would only take short breaks to glower at her and she only make it worse when she ignored him. No one was talking, Hermione could feel the suffocating atmosphere and they all stared down into their porridge not one of them daring to break the unity.

Ms Cole seemed to know something happened but all she did was look sadly at the table, the woman in that moment resembled more a corpse slowly decaying than the strict but fair woman she encountered earlier. It was like they all knew their short lived power over Riddle was about to blow up in their face. Billy especially seemed more ill than the others and hadn't touched his food, just slowly spinning his spoon in the grey slop.

 

She did find it odd that they were willing to attack Riddle even though he seemed to have already established he was in control. But she knew all too well that the moment they had an opportunity to strike back to release all of their resentments towards him, they did.

But now there was only the looming fact, that all they were doing now was just waiting to see how Tom would respond and they could do nothing to stop whatever it was.

Later that night Hermione was preparing for bed when she heard Billy's sobbs from down the hall while the whispers of Dennis comforted him. It was a hushed atmosphere one that people described when a forest goes silent, no birds, no wind, nothing. Only the sobbs and unintelligible whispers that ghosted her ears. An uncontrolled shiver ran down her spine and she cursed as she pulled the covers over herself, it would do no good for her to stop what she knew was going to happen. That rabbit was a goner and she knew it from the start.

At an ungodly hour Hermione was woken up by her bladder and nearly groaned out loud when she realized she couldn't hold it till morning.

Her feet padded against the cold stone floor and in the dark of night she made her was to the restroom. She froze when she saw the silhouette of an orphan and she took an educated guess as to who. Both of them stood there, still, unwilling to make the first move.

He was slightly hunched over and clutching his side. Hermione let her eyes travel over his form and once her analysis of him was done she wanted to groan.

She suspected one or a few of his ribs were broken, not that he'd ever let anyone know or take a look.

They both just stood there watching the other. "What are you doing up" he said in a hiss. Oh how she hated him, but in a cruel morbid way she cared about not him necessarily but what he meant. He was the only connection she had to her old life, the only proof of its existence. The catalyst for everything.

Walking closer to him she gave him no time to stop her as she grabbed both his sides with her hands and let the magic flow. By no means was she gentle and she could hear the swift crack of the bones snapping back in place.

The boy grunted trying to stifle a shout of pain and shoved her off with a furious look. He opened his mouth but all words were caught in his throat as he registered what she did. It was clear he knew what she did as his hands traveled to the places where his ribs were once broken.

Not wasting any time she sped past him into the restroom, she noticed this was the second time today she ran from Riddle. She had broken every goal and rule she set for herself today, she used magic, she outed herself, and she interacted with Riddle more than necessary. Merlin she needed to stop helping him, it was like she was subconsciously trying to befriend him.

He was nasty cruel and she would bet good money he was out of bed to hang the rabbit. Shaking off her inner turmoil she headed for a toilet.

The next morning Billy himself woke to find his pet hanging in the rafters, everyone knew who was responsible but no solid proof connected him to it. So once again Riddle got away with it.


	4. Wrong choices

England London, 29 September 1934

 

Until that day the kids ignored her, acted as if she was air, nothing more than dust floating by and that suited her just fine. She had realized she had become a lot less talkative these days anyway, she guessed it was because there wasn't much for her to say anymore. 

The kids wanted nothing to do with her and looked the other way when she passed. Riddle just glared, though surprisingly avoided her too. But when their paths would cross he would look like he hated her with a special fury, saved only for her. 

Perhaps because of the threat she might have posed to him or just maybe it was similar to how he was with Dumbledore, fear. 

But the bonus of this newfound avoidance was the freedom it gave her and peace of not being bothered or picked on. There was only one time and just the one when a kid wanted to break that peace.

It was only after the first few weeks of schooling in muggle London that her first and last incident happened in the school yard. Hermione thought she was just on autopilot in her classes but she apparently was outshining her fellow kids, only Riddle was close (a testament to his unbridled genius) but a young schoolboy can't really keep up with a much older diligent student, no matter how talented they are.

She never spoke in class and when the teacher called on her she answered in short uninterested tones, she may no longer show off her smarts but there was no way she would play dumb. 

It wasn't really work for her and her pride dictated she at the very least complete everything, no wrong answers. Even as a grown woman who knew advanced maths and had read Beowulf, Hamlet, and the Odyssey (with full analysis) she couldn't force a few wrong answers on a spelling test or a multiplication chart just to play the part of ignorant 30's girl.

Because of her lack of self control she was also making a pariah of herself to her fellow students.

Her smarts had landed her a permanent spot in the school yard right by the road curb, a curb she shared with Riddle (who sat as far away as possible). 

That day of the 'incident' she was sitting on that curb staring at dirt when a ball rolled into peripheral, the offending object that triggered the 'incident'. 

Hermione glanced up to see a group of kids all look hesitant to do something, when a boy (another Tom) who often tried to torment the orphan Tom (she assumed to compensate for others teasing him for the shared name) made the first move. He walked up to her and she let her gaze follow him all the way. She recognized he was testing the waters with the way he approached, to see how far he could go with the 'new girl'. 

Once he stood over her he waited as if expecting her to speak first before he finally spat out what he wanted to say. 

"The ball" he pointed to it,

Hermione looked back at the ball then to the fidgeting group behind the figure blocking her dirt view. 

"you can't join us even if you hand it over, no one wants you to... join that is" he sounded cold and full of a surprising amount of hate. 

She was no kid but the comment did slightly nudge at her, only stirring her temper lightly. 

This was just sad, she thought she was done with school yard bullies years ago. But then again she thought the same thing once she found out she had magic and how wrong that had been. He interrupted her thoughts growing impatient 

"I'm not getting it, not crossing over into the tut side." 

he shoved a finger into her face gesturing between her and the ball. 

Huff "what are you deaf, an old lady" 

her head shot up at that. old how could he know, no... no that was impossible, wasn't it?

He seemed to puff up at her reacting to his taunts and became cockier 

"you heard me! and, and no one likes you! Billy, Billy says you don't blink or eat and that he saw you drink blood like a vampire, an Eric said you're an old witch disguised to steal kids away to eat! But I just think you're a freak a plain ol'e freak!"

color drained from her at the second theory, it was way too close to home. 

The biggest takeaway was that the kids even knew she wasn't one of them, they hated Riddle but they still knew he was a part of the group. She however was not, that much was clear. 

Hermione's face remained blank as she just stared at him, she didn't really know how to respond to what he said, so she saw no problem in not responding. This seemed to make things worse as a twinge of fear started to radiate off the boy and she knew fear well, it made someone their most volatile. 

"You're a freak, wrong! A walking corpse, a creepy doll. You just stare!" 

Was it that obvious? Could people easily tell she wasn't really a child? 

She tried to be as blank as possible, is that where she went wrong? Out of the corner of her eye she could see Riddle watching the interaction intently.

Did he agree too?

Hermione's face remained unchanged, after all none of it hurt her feelings not truly, she just wanted him to stop she was done with this shit.

"They all agree, just too cowardly to say it, an' treat you differently. More like an adult... a loony one. That's what Dennis said anyway, that you're how Barnaby's paper described loony's at Saint Mcgregor's asylum" 

She just stared at him. Something stirred a lot stronger from that, she didn't know why nor did she care at that moment. She could feel herself become angrier the longer he spoke. 

"no one likes you, because you're a freak! Everyone's just waiting for you to snap. Waiting till you get shipped off to Mcgregors, you say nothing and do nothing all day... it's weird.... wrong"

At that point in time she guessed, technically she was worse than Riddle, he was just a tyrant who flexed his power over children. She had already murdered people, lost everything that anchored her down and could likely slaughter the entire muggle orphanage, including Riddle during the night without any real guilt. She knew it was wrong logically but the emotions just didn't click not as naturally as they used to. There was no one left to stop her, no one she could base empathy off of. Why was she playing nice in a world that made voldemort, given she knew a good amount of it was him naturally but this place carved him out, made him who he would be. 

An open smile broke across her face as she stood, the boy now drained of color at the action. Everyone watched as she made her way over to the ball and picked it up. 

She wasn't a saint and knew it, her old ideals were far and gone and she'd make no excuse for it. If she was already a monster then why fight it? Even with her reasoning she would never be able to fully explain why she did what she did next. It was like her mind let go of the wheel and that gaping chasm took over. Someone, or something to direct her cavern at and it swallowed it so wholly she barely noticed. 

In the distance she could hear a car approach and she tossed the ball into the street. 

"Fetch"

was all she said to the boy before his face glazed over into an expression like a joyous puppy as he chased after the bouncing ball. The child stumbled onto the street swaying like a drunk man as he bent for the ball with an approaching car blaring its horn.

A loud crunch was heard with the screeching of tires burning rubber from the skidding impact.

Poor Muggle Tom was carted off soon after by panicked adults, he never would return to the school but she didn't know if that was because he didn't want to or because there was no longer a muggle Tom. 

Only days after the incident did her actions impact her, truly sink in what she did. As she would turn in her bed, drenched in sweat trying to drown out the thoughts whirling at her one after the other.

Why did you do that, that wasn't like you, how could you. 

She would moan from the mental pain of her own mind ripping herself apart.

No control, horrible person. no, no, monster. Just like him, just like him, so foul.

Her brain would burn as tears squeezed out and fists gripped her hair.

What's wrong with you, what would they think. 

What would they think?

No one could like you, let alone love you, so nasty.

But there was no one left for that.

Because of him. 

What got to her the most was that right after, she had looked over to Tom, just in time to catch in his eyes unfiltered fear, fear of her. She concluded that even child Riddle had limits... at least for the time being 

and even he thought she was horrid.

 

 

England London, 14 October 1935

 

Church bells rung in the building before her, a place the orphanage frequented. 

The group of kids shuffled in, even though it was Monday Ms Cole insisted they go after an especially nasty incident with a younger girls arm being ripped up by a street dog. Hermione believed Ms Cole thought the devil had a hand in it, with a surrogate named Tom Riddle to carry out the dirty work. 

The girl was new and had been taunting Riddle to try to earn a place among the orphans, all she got was avoidance from others, fearful to not invoke Toms wrath.

Of course no muggles could claim that the orphan boy did it, because no human can control animals. 

Not unless they were possessed. 

Hermione knew Ms Cole was really here to beg the priest for the twenty eighth time (she had been counting) to perform an exorcism on the boy. 

She genuinely questioned if she really had to go along with the group as lately even Hermione was impressed at how the matron, orphans, and even Tom pretended she wasn't there, as if she was a draft that would occasionally make itself known.

Impressed at how effectively fear gave her the space she wanted, it was no wonder Riddle used it so liberally in later years. Sometimes she wondered if she could really skip the outings as even Tom seemed to ignore her now. 

She also pieced together why she had no troubles and Tom consistently had conflict. Tom, would torment the other orphans while she, would just ignore them right back.

It made her slightly giddy to realize they all feared her, not like Toms fear or even voldemort's fear. His fear was of mortal danger, the brutality, the violence, his interactions with others and what he pushed for. He forced it, needed it. Her fear was that of a boogeymen, an urban legend, something a horror story would create. Something unnatural, wrong, that no one, not even Riddle wanted to invoke. 

She wouldn't lie she was getting a power high off of it, maybe even crack a smile to herself when alone. 

She knew this was only because of the whole traveling back in time and being the wrong age thing as it seemed the natural flow of things being disrupted was felt by others, even muggles. 

But it was obscenely fun to terrorise Riddles childhood, be something powerful, unnatural, and scary for him. 

How was she changing the boy, would she be his boggart? Sadly she suspected it wouldn't last long and he would likely grow out of it and fairly soon. 

Walking into the building she had to school her features so she didn't look like a madwoman... madchild?

The church was large and imposing with filtered stained glass providing the only light for her.

They must have been a sight to behold, a scruffy grey mass shuffling in the grand building with the sharp Ms Cole dragging the young Tom by the arm at the front of the group, seemingly trying to glare the wrath of god into the boy. A plump balding man with round spectacles turned to see the group and he jumped slightly before settling back down and shuffling over to them.

"May I help you today Ms Cole?" he said in a soft tone looking between her and the boy, indicating he knew exactly why she was here.

In hushed whispers she began, yanking Tom closer 

"it's the boy, he did it again! I'm at my wits end, if it's not this then it's the hospital. I've got a contact within it, they have a damn bed prepared if you're not willing!" 

The priest attempted to hush her as he motioned for the children to sit in the pews, far from the conversation happening. At her comments Riddle seemed to look a bit ill but then quickly covered up the show of 'weakness' with a scowl. Ms Cole motioned at the boy as if to say Look! Sighing the man responded in whisper and a heated back and forth was exchanged for some time. 

From Hermione's spot she couldn't make out the words but she took an educated guess as to what was said. It likely followed along the same lines of the twenty eight other times the conversation had happened. 

'I can't handle him' or 'this, this is the last time last I tell you' and her personal favorite 'I'll ship him off, scotland maybe somewhere far far away' and the man would talk her down saying he's 'just a boy' and 'just a little longer and he will convince the vatican' 

but Hermione knew neither would ever happen. 

At this point the locals had been treating the orphanage as their private theater and entertainment to the great embarrassment of many of the orphans. Ms Cole would always wind herself up to a breaking point where she would drag the whole orphanage here only to be wound back down and sent back just to start the cycle over again. These antics were taking a physical toll on her and she seemed to age prematurely. 

Pulling out a choir book from in front of her Hermione flipped through the pages, small ink drawings of cherubs and lilies decorated the corners. Recognizing none of the songs she set the booklet back down, 

bored.

She had gotten used to occupying herself with her thoughts and what little magical learning she could do with her bag and notebook. But as of late she had run even that into the ground and had been repeatedly tempted to shortly venture out on her own to wizarding London to do some shopping (though carefully her money was finite). With her newfound freedom from the eye of others it was entirely possible. The question was how long was too long?

Looking back over to an animated Ms Cole she guessed tonight was as good as any.

She found that no one came for her in the mornings after testing the amount of time she could sleep in before someone came to get her, the answer was the entire day. She assumed Ms Cole left her to take care of herself, maybe she felt like she wasn't a kid too. Had bigger fish to fry maybe. Either way it worked in her favor. 

Once the matron was sated the group shuffled back out and onto the streets, heading back to the orphanage. 

From the cracks of the bobbing crowd Hermione watched Riddle, 

something she did often. 

He looked sullen and bitter but even more determined (if possible) but something about this day felt off, maybe a last straw for him? 

From her frequent watching of Riddle she was able to read him well, he was too young to fully hide himself yet, like he had that first meeting with Dumbledore and that small crack she got let her slip behind and see past his mask. He was a right devil but she concluded still a human one. 

She had been watching, all of the deliberate acts of magic to trip, cut, and maim the other orphans, it was so common that if Dumbledore had told them all he was magic they'd all be inclined to believe him. 

He may have been able to control animals but she knew he wasn't able to control people and that must have scared him, to know she could control him... if she wanted and he could do nothing in return.

But the problem with all the back and forth was the constant struggle for control between the other orphans and Tom, he would attack one of them to the point of disfigurement and they would return by mocking and attacking him when the opportunity showed itself. It caused for a tumultuous environment that had everyone paranoid about every step taken. From what she had seen it was clear why Voldemort ended up like he did, though she knew it never would excuse his actions. Because the hard truth was there were no excuses nor any justification for some of the things even she did.

Once the group shuffled back to their 'home' Ms Cole locked herself in her office and left the children to their own devices. 

Child care in the 1930's seemed to be much more lax than where she was from, you would never be able to leave a child alone for hours, there would be role calls, counts. But not here, she could likely slip out for a day or two and have it go unnoticed. 

Hermione peaked around the corner of her room and scanned the hall, no one there. Walking down the hall she silenced her steps and pulled out Harry's cloak. Making her way down the stairs she slowed when she heard the sound of muffled sobbing, not a child's but an adults. It came from behind Ms Coles door, the office was splintering and bare, falling apart just like the woman herself. 

Dismissing the room Hermione ventured on and out the front door only to find Riddle at the gate grabbing the bars and looking off into the crowds of London.

He had his head on the lumpy metal bars picking at the black paint to reveal its rust. When she approached she could hear him mumbling to himself. 

"I'm not mad, what does she know. Just a stupid woman, who'll die here, forgotten. I'll show all of them, just they wait till I'm sixteen and they kick me out of this dump. Those boring unimportant-"

she had heard enough and rolled her eyes from beneath the cloak. 

Some things never changed, even if he later kept those gripes in his head. 

She was tempted to scare him in her invisible state but she knew better than to stoop to a child's level, she had already established she was not about that... 

Pulling out the old bats wand Hermione smirked knowing just this once it wouldn't hurt to stoop as she let the crack of disaperation leave a stunned Riddle behind. 

Pulling the cloak off Hermione looked at the entrance to the leaky cauldron and entered the pub solely focused on her shopping list. First she needed to head to Ye Olde Curiosity Shop and right next to it Cobb & Webb's in knockturn alley to purchase a few darker texts and items, including Secrets of the Darkest Art (one she had been dying to read ever since she learned about it, knowing its what lead Voldemort down the horcrux path), Blood and Binding Practices, and she hoped to find some cursed trunks to protect her valuables better. Once she purchased the items then she would go to obscurus books and pick a few tomes that caught her eye.

Rushing over to the entrance to Diagon alley Hermione brushed past the robed witches and wizards bustling about. 

The shops and storefronts hadn't changed significantly from when she had first set eyes on the supernatural shopping center. The overflowing wares haphazardly displayed, strange sights and sounds to any muggleborn. 

Weaving through the colorful and exuberantly dressed crowds, passing windows filled with new magical nick knacks and tools. She slowed a bit when passing book displays just trying to catch a glimpse at the titles. But soon the wave of nostalgia and happy shoppers faded as the dark, cold entrance of knockturn alley waited before her. 

Hermione looked back for a moment taking in the last moments of the innocent busy scene of shoppers, for only a few seconds she could pretend nothing had changed, that she was back to her early Hogwarts years preparing for second maybe third year. 

A wave of bitterness washed over her and she bit hard on the side of her tongue, she had been too soft with Riddle, somehow she could still be so naive and let it slip her mind just how much destruction he caused. She had been separating the boy from what he would do too much, she guessed seeing the orphan wandless and throwing punches with his fellow orphans made him seem so much more pathetic, powerless.

But that was the furthest thing from Riddle because if there was one guarantee with him it was he was no victim and she didn't want to be reminded the hard way. 

Turning back towards the dim entrance she headed down its path passing the stained and crusty walls. The road was so thin that if she stood in the middle and reached for each side the tips of her hands would touch each side. All the buildings no longer had paint and the wood was faded or stained, splintering along the edges.

A few stragglers would look up from what they were doing and watch her pass, some would try to call her attention but she walked on without so much as a glance at them. A shower wasn't something she thought many of them knew about as grime not only covered the walls but the patrons as well.

As dirty as they were she knew what a dangerous position she was in, being a child and all, back home it had always been dangerous especially after the war so she had plenty of experience with getting in and out of the alley unscathed.

Soon Ye olde curiosity was in sight and she dogged one last hobbled figure before entering the store, whose hand shot out to grab her and she pulled away but not before their long jagged yellowed fingernail dug into her palm drawing blood.

Hissing from the pain the cut created Hermione elbowed them away before entering the store.

The entrance had wares and alike in the front room with large webs covering some items further back, the ceiling was tall for the windows but the hall that lead to the back was cramped and she realized it would just barely be tall enough for someone 180 cm if they were to hunch over.

Making her way towards the back room she knew her presence was no secret as each step the wood below her would pop and crack.

Without any words she made her way through the unlit hall and after turning a corner found a small room with a counter and random objects thrown into the corners. Light dust continuously floated in the air and a small beam of dim filtered light came in from a small porthole sized window. Different shades of brown took over the room and she nearly jumped when what she assumed to be a pile of leather started to move.

At second glance she made out the form of a napping man slowly rising from his worn 'loved' cushioned chair with a permanent butt imprint. A series of coughs and groans came out of the man as he struggled to make his way to the counter.

Soon he stood before her a bear of a man with a nest for a beard and auburn hair with a patchy brown coat. If he weren't so short she would swear he must be related to Hagrid. The man's eyes searched the space above her head and she felt herself flush while he took a few more moments to notice the pint sized customer. 

"BAH" he said in a slightly frustrated tone while slapping his hands on the counters surface. 

"We don' serve kids, go find yer' ma" he turned back towards the chair making a move to go back. 

"Gold is gold... Sir. I don't see how age matters here when even some adults go crying to their ma's after entering this alley"

the man stammered in his movement and looked back down at her as if reevaluating her and leaned in, like her grandmother did when trying to make out what the newspapers small print said.

Scratching his beard he questioned Hermione 

"do ye even know whats'er... sold in establishments such as this" he motioned around himself,

his tone was no longer mocking or belittling but serious and curious. Following up he went into further detail

"this isn' exactly a shop ye 'just take a look around'"

When she opened her mouth again she couldn't stop herself from breaking out into the open mouthed smile again as she spoke.

"I only want a simple item, a trunk or luggage that can keep out prying eyes and unwanted hands"

He let a guy laugh escape before looking back down at her "lil' girl go back to Gambol and Japes joke shop, yer likely find what'cher lookin' fer somewhere more ya speed" 

Hermione scowled, just when she thought they were going somewhere.

"Sir, if I came here for gags I would have requested so. I think you misinterpret I came here to your shop looking, for what I know is your specialty, a container for my possessions so neither thief nor snoop will be left unharmed or unmarked. I thought this place has some of the best cursed trunks and is renowned for the varying effects that you can purchase. Now I have the galleons for it, the question is if I need to go to one of your competitors to get what I need" she huffed, flustered and out of breath as her fiery temper (she noticed) had more of a leash with her child body. 

Surprise was written on his face after hearing the tirade and he walked away disappearing for a while then returning with multiple trunks. Silently he put them on the counter and let her inspect them then would give a description of what they did. 

"This'ne leaves th' individual with a nasty curse, when th' snoop touches or tampers with it, ther' left with a mark on th' hands then if they don' come te' ya it'll only get worse an' spread on up through the blood, very painful, described as fire an's crawlin' up yer veins."

It would do "Ill take it",

"no hesitation eh, I know this'erm is private n'all but'te ya gotta' see how this is curious. A lil girl comes te my shop for an' item like this. Are ye' from a fancy family howsa' young lass such as yerself commin in person here fer this" 

"You're right it is private and it isn't the only thing I'm shopping for in this alley" she spat tasting the bitterness in her over what she's come to.

To think of how much she's changed, how much herself even a few years ago would condemn who she was now.

"Well, er good luck. Not many shops are as accomidatin" 

His words seemed to make him have a dawn of realization and he rushed into the back and Hermione could hear loud crashes as he rummaged. When he returned he held a rusted metal medallion that was rectangular with a leathery ribbon ties at the end, kind of like a bookmark but much too thick.

"I have this ol' thing thatuh can help ye when shopin in an areah like this, for a price of course. Jus flash one'a thease to a shopkeep and no questions asked you can buy te yer heart's content"

She looked suspiciously at the item "and hows that, what makes it so useful"

a puzzled look crossed his face then cleared as he said "duno I found et when I was'a bout fifteen, din need et after a bit but'e never failed me once" he finished smiling.

Reluctantly Hermione agreed, even with its steep price it would be more than helpful to her. 

"fine , so whats my total"

Hermione left the shop 750 galleons lighter. It had taken out a larger chunk than she anticipated but she knew the hunk of metal would come in handy when bargaining for the two texts she was after, even for an adult it would be difficult to get but luckily she had the medallion (whatever it meant).

It had the imprint of a Antipodean Opaleye (dragon) clutching an unknown branch of something, it was too simple of a carving for her make out what kind of plant specifically. The metal stung her still open cut and she winced as she pocketed it, rubbing the throbbing wound (she would need to disinfect it just in case). 

Once in front of the shop she looked to her right at Cobb & Webb's, from the outer appearance you would think the shop is closed or abandoned, more so than the other shops in knockturn alley. 

When she finally won the struggle of opening the front door she hear a small bell go off and looked up to see an old man behind a display case reading a book. Walking further into the shop she saw to her left a small room taken up entirely by shelves, all neat and organized, it was only the thick layers of dust and dead bugs that would remind the shopper what kind of shop this was. 

Setting her sights on the old man he was severely balding with small round reading glasses and a scrawny frame. He was dressed in a faded blue robe and the windows provided the only light which created a grey cerulean color to everything in contrast to the brown and gold tinted shop she was previously in.

Walking up to the counter she waited in front of him but he didn't so much as glance at her, seemingly enveloped in his reading (or just no interest in her). 

"Excuse me sir" she deadpanned, 

he didn't look up.

Hermione suppressed a huff

"ahem, I am here for a purchase"

still nothing. 

Getting frustrated she slammed her new medallion on the counter and tapped her foot impatiently. She vaguely heard the bell ring behind her and nearly said something when the man looked up to the other customer before his eyes caught what she had placed on the table.

The man looked between the item and her for a bit with clear surprise before schooling his features and rising from his seat while steepling his fingers. In a calm quiet voice her addressed her 

"How may I help you today... Miss" 

he seemed a little pained while saying miss but she was in no mood to nitpick.

"I require two texts I know this establishment currently possess'."

He lifted his brow as if to say go on. 

"Blood and Binding Practices and Secrets of the Darkest Art" 

the man jerked back clearly taken aback by such a dark request from such a small girl. Hermione gritted her teeth as she ground out

"preferably now" 

she wanted to make this outing as short as possible but it seemed wizarding Britain wasn't feeling cooperative.

The shop-keep looked back down at the metal on his counter before apprehensively heading towards the back to presumably retrieve the books. 

While waiting the other customer decided to make themselves known as the tall dark cloaked figure rested a large hand on her shoulder and whispered in a rough gravelly voice that had a slight Scandinavian lilt.

"Now lass I'm not planning on rattin' you out or anything but I believe we both know that thing" he pointed to the medallion "isn't yours" 

Hermione whirled around towards the figure but halfway they grabbed her shoulders and forced her to turn forward again.

"Sorry lass can't have that. Now this"

he picked up the metal and pocketed it 

"hey-" 

"it would be to your benefit to tell me where you came upon this. Now I know you didn't somehow manage to nick this off of its owner-"

the shop-keep came back with both books and set them down. 

"The total will be 485-" 

Hermione threw roughly 500 galleons at the man and grabbed the books with every intention of running out as fast as possible but some impulse stopped her and she didn't know why but she turned before leaving and directed her statement towards the other shopper

"I don't know, why don't you ask the guy next door".

Hermione ran the entire way out of knockturn alley, wishing to forget the unpleasant experience,

and just when she spent so much on the thing she lost it just as fast as she got the damn thing.

 

 

England London, 21 July 1936

 

Letting the sand fill the space between her toes Hermione felt the oceans spray lick her toes. She held the shoes her grandfather gave her in one hand and the notebook in the other. She wore the white summer dress he also gave her. 

Two years of living there in the orphanage.

She had visited the ocean with them a few times before but this time she knew would be the one, 

the one where Riddle would lure Amy and Dennis to the cliff-side and to the cave, scarring them forever. 

Hermione continued her walk along the grey speckled rocks, most larger than herself ending with jagged edges. 

Along the horizon an angry dark storm could be seen coming their way, it was no surprise as when they arrived fog covered the entire shore, obscuring the figures of anyone four meters ahead. Ms Cole had let them wander with the warning to stay close before the storm hit.

Light speckles started to come down barley making ripples on the ocean's surface. 

The water was an oxford blue but the violent crashes with the rocks created pearly foam and spray. The wind started to pick up as Hermione drew closer to the larger rocks by the cave. Once at the edge of the furthest she could go to the cliffs she looked out towards its ominous entrance.

Harry had only described what it was like in there but she could only imagine what the two orphans were in for once Tom got them there. The place seemed to even rattle wizards but had scared two orphans from muggle London long into their adult years, an involuntary chill creeped down her spine at the thought. 

On the top of the cliff she could see two wandering figures and one trailing behind. 

The storm began to pick up and Hermione resisted the urge to go after Riddle, from sheer curiosity. 

The less she got involved the better. 

The wind started to whip her hair around and in front of her eyes. She struggled with her hair for a while before giving up and facing the wind, reluctantly turning her back on the cliff. Hermione settled on heading back before the storm got to bad. 

The rocks had become significantly more slippery as the rain increased to an irritating amount of impact.

Waves rose higher and soon began to slam against the rocks in contrast to their previous light crashing. Hermione began to hug the side of the rocks but soon the weather became too treacherous. 

Closing her eyes Hermione let the sounds of nature drown her aching mind. 

Charcoal foggy skies dimmed the open land and the crashing waves boomed, echoing off of the rocks. The crashing sounds and reverberating thunder sent ripples through her body. Rain hit with such impact that her skin become sore. 

The intensity of the scene shook her small frame and in a moment of isolation she could feel the emotions she long lost grip of, rise without control like bile in her throat as tears sprung out and stung her eyes. She let a sob rack her body letting it be drowned out by natures roar.

For the first time since the final battle her emotions had bubbled up and made themselves known, it's not as if she had been burying them, only that they seemed to develop a mind of their own leaving her alone to wander about. Like trying to grip water she could not control nor keep hold of the feelings.

Taking joy in the fear others had for her, only because it was all she could find joy in about the situation. All she had was what power over others she had because she had already gone too far to take it back to go back to how she was before. 

Her tears burned matching the anger smoldering in her chest as the rest of her ached, her eyes, limbs, and mind all throbbing.

In that moment she could decipher how she felt, and all that was left all that she felt was anger, anger and pain.

It all just hurt more knowing who she lived with, ate with, and even helped was not some detachable child with no relation to her pain, it was the source of all the anger. 

Turning to look back at the cave entrance she felt hatred burn in her fiercer than before.

Pulling out her wand she closed her eyes and focused on the entrance of the cave and nothing else. 

She could hear the world quiet for a moment and then the pull of apparition. The second she felt gravel below her Hermione felt the air disappear like it was sucked out of the atmosphere around her. Sounds from outside seemed nonexistent and anyone in here would have no idea a storm was raging outside, here it was as if this was all there was, just you and the hollow darkness that enveloped the cave. The ambiance of the cave snuffed out any thoughts and emotions one had and all that it left was a frightened small feeling.

The echo of voices brought her out of her slight daze and directed her towards her fellow orphans position.

In the darkness she struggled for a bit straining her eyes looking for them but was only able to make out a dim orange light, she assumed a torch. 

But it was odd, it was too balled, as if it was being smothered by the velvety darkness. 

She felt like something was surrounding them, 

could it be something in the air,

maybe humidity.

But no it was too cold, colder than what felt naturally possible.

An echoing voice lead her closer to them. 

"Can't we go back, I don't like it here. Tom you can go in and Dennis and I will wait by the entrance" 

The sharpness and maliciousness of the tone that hissed back shocked even her, as she hadn't quite expected it from such a young Tom.

"And good luck finding your way back, there's only one torch and I would just love to watch you.... attempt to take it from me" 

The voice of Dennis responded in a poorly concealed shaken tone attempting to be firm. 

"T-Tom, look I don't know why you want to go deeper, there's nothing down here let's just go back" 

it was almost pleading. 

She could hear the tears in Amy's voice now as the girl was clearly a mess

"I-I want to go back, please. Lets just go back, Please... Please, Dennis come on, I want to leave. I WANT TO L-EAVE" she was a sobbing wreck and Hermione felt a brief stab of pity for the girl. 

After all she knew the pain and emotional trauma that was Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

She could just hear the girl crying and what sounded like a hiss of anger from Riddle before Dennis attempted to sate Riddle again. 

"RIDDLE, LETS JUST GO, THE OTHERS... THE OTHERS MUST BE WORRIED. RIDDLE-... 

UHG whats that s-"

A loud shrill shriek rung out so loud that Hermione's hands shot to her ears, covering them as fast as she could.

It was a shriek like none of the muggle movies she'd seen it was more like the hair raising chilling ones of the last wail murder victims make.

Once she released her hands she could hear two sets of footsteps rushing towards her and immediately Hermione bolted to the side to get out of the way. She heard both of the footstep owners shriek once more at the sound of her footsteps and their pace increased. She listened as both people stumbled a few times as they struggled to bolt out of the cave as soon as possible and them for their steps to fade off. 

Following them was the calm quiet footsteps of the torch holder, trailing them out of the cave.

Hermione sat in the silence for a while just letting the quiet settle and the darkness still. 

"Lumos" she whispered as she stood, taking slow deliberate steps she approached the place the three orphans stopped at. She could hear the sound of light lapping from the lakes shore. The echo of each step she took on the small dark stones, not knowing what waited for her in the darkness. Large unending space surrounded her and from all angles just darkness. 

The shore of the black bottomlesslake Harry years previously had described came to view and the smell hit her long before the sight of a beaten up leather shoe.

The scent was indescribable and the only description close to it was fermenting shit mixed with meat that had been left out to rot for a week during the summer. But worse,

so much worse.

Holes and rot covered the familiar sight of a corpse, whose beard lay on his face like a birds nest and now mutilated corpse that was likely once a lumbering frame. 

The chest cavity was ripped open and it had been long enough that it wasn't crimson and wet but was maggoty and oozing a brownish pus with guts splayed around. His eyes were hollow and plucked out and crusted blood covered mainly his mouth but speckled out of his ears and nose. Fly's and buzzing of unknown insects surrounded the splayed intestines. 

She noticed subtle movements writhing beneath the rot that could be considered flesh. Bulging and receding, almost slithering around bulbous forms moved within the body. 

If she had to guess it appeared to be roughly thirty different ones, it gave the illusion of some debaucherous form of life or reanimation.

Crouching to get a closer look Hermione covered her mouth and nose to stop herself from gagging at the scent and picked up a stone to throw at it. The moment the rock hit the skin violent movement thrashed within it making her jerk backwards roughly crashing against the sharp stones.

A grimy oozing head of a snake pushed through the deteriorating body's skin and flicked its tongue out once before returning to the deteriorating inside. 

That explained how Riddle knew to walk here. 

Hermione made a move to inspect the mans face a bit closer but stopped prematurely as she noticed a trail of blood from his back towards further into the cave. 

She stood following the trail, her wands light only lit a few meters in front of her making it so she nearly fell when the trail suddenly stopped to find a filleted skin of what she assumed to be the man's back. 

Burned cuts covered the back she was too far to make out what the cut on the back was but she only vaguely saw the outline of wings and a claw clutching...

the long form of a snake slid over and Hermione was drawn back out into reality. 

Taking a step back she focused on more than just the back and saw a writhing mass of one hundred maybe two hundred snakes slithering around, covering the ground and spilling over and out around her. Sliding up her leg, piling on her, surrounding her. 

Her mind blanked and she could feel her body start to move of its own accord as she only vaguely registered herself sprinting for the entrance, far away from the morbid scene she was leaving behind.


	5. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! A special thanks to AmeliaFuentes for all of your wonderful comments. Nonni for the thoughtful and fun comment. And finally Huy for the short but incredibly encouraging comment. I really appreciate all of the support and am always willing to hear thoughts/feelings of all readers. A second thanks to those who bookmark/kudos (etc) or any form of interaction, it is all appreciated and without further adieu the update!

England London, 1 August 1936

It had taken her just over a week to sort it out, reflect on what happened in the cave. The corpse was oddly suspicious and something about the entire event left her unsettled. Magical presence seemed to seep off of the place, that combined with the vague familiar feeling she had about it left her conflicted and with more questions than answers.

The orphanage had become stuffy, a place that began to grate on her nerves. She was becoming restless with the dull walls that caged her in. After a few years of rest her need for more begun to stir. This world now held many possibilities for her, so why was she wasting away there? As a child she wanted to learn all she could, go free, uninhibited to discover the worlds secrets.

But now she was pulled down by the little bastard Riddle, why did the world seem to revolve around him. His world was so small, so limited. He only learned for power, to crawl his way to the top, but that was it.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The world expanded far beyond him and she was determined to be a part of it.

Hermione watched out of the spotted window, down at the small lot the children played on.

Tom as usual was by the tree, reading a book.

To be so close to him for so long, it was numb and unreal. She knew who he was and what he was capable of, it wasn't as if she couldn't see the small boy in front of her as the same person from her time. Only that she no longer felt a part of it all, it didn't feel like she had a right to be a part of anyone's life anymore, for better or worse.

The boy she hurt, beyond the moral wrongness of it, something more felt wrong about it, like she had already broken the natural flow of time and was being too greedy. She felt pushed to a spectators position and if she stepped out of those bounds the world would jump on her.

She watched as a small child ran around the lot trying to get a kite to take off. He was clearly not paying attention and she knew he'd likely run into Riddle. Causing trouble that was all too common in the orphanage.

Hermione knew beforehand and watched as her prediction became truth as the boy tripped over Tom.

She turned from the window and walked down the hall towards her room.

She was so sick of this place, so done with the children.

She didn't deserve this. She fought in a war for most of her life, without much of a choice. Been on the run, the only one of her side to escape. Hailed the smartest witch of her age. Broke the natural laws of time and space.

And what was she awarded with?

Being thrown back as a child, forced to live with the bane of her existence.

It hit her in that moment like lighting,

she no longer had to care.

She had nothing real holding her back.

No ministry, no loved ones, no boundaries.

Entering the dingy room assigned to her she knew she was going to do as she pleased.

 

 

Egypt Memphis, 3 September 1937

Looking over the yellowing papyrus sprawled over her splintering wooden table, Hermione read the ancient text carefully.

She had been camping out beside the sphinx for close to two weeks at that point and had been rotating between ringing the local wizarding locations dry for all their worth or studying the older structures for any unknown magical passages, unbenounced to the current record.

Hermione had set out to do what she did best in times when she wanted to shut the world out.

Work.

Work.

Work.

If she were honest with herself it was exhilarating to be doing something more her speed after years of being cooped up with small children.

And what better way to fill her time with than traveling.

While she did enjoy the options wizarding Britain offered, she knew the greater world beyond was a much needed uncharted territory for her, new concepts and magical possibilities beyond what classes could offer.

As well as a good distraction to boot.

Sadly all of her excursions away from the orphanage were only two weeks or few days, once she returned to the orphanage she would have to spend a week there just to clarify she was indeed still an occupant there.

Ms Cole said nothing, while the children seemed to be curious but still to wary to approach. The matron was an odd woman and besides the lax view on childcare Hermione believed Riddle had diminished the woman's ability to care about a small girls activities when Tom was off maiming his fellow orphans, as well as the recent cliff incident taking a large toll on the woman's will. She guessed as long as she returned unharmed and sound the matron would continue her lax attitude towards her whereabouts. Besides traveling the world was already on her bucket list and soon she could cross it off.

The writing she was looking at belonged to the late pharaoh Khufu and in it references towards the construction of the great pyramid.

In it he went on about the connection towards the heavens and how it was to merge both night and day. She didn't quite understand what he meant by merging night and day but she was quite sure the connection towards the heavens was alluding towards the idea that there were other chambers within the pyramid that had religious purposes, at least based off of the phrasing.

The hope she had was that if the chamber was undisturbed that it would contain the book of the dead,

a text that even muggles knew about.

As an actual child she remembered reading about how the book was alleged to have spells and magic formulas along with Egyptian beliefs of death and the afterlife. A book that held the same weight of importance in both muggle and magical worlds, a book that the muggle community in her time claimed to have found but wizarding academia disputed.

None of the things in the text found had any real magical knowledge and it was well known among the magical community that the real book did indeed contain powerful magic.

Frustrated Hermione burst out of the flimsy tent she had lived in many times before.

She had to return soon, she only wished she had more time. To enter the pyramid then go searching for the chamber would take a solid week and she guessed she had roughly two more days before returning.

She struggled for a bit when pacing away from the tent as the sand quickly consumed her short legs. Letting out a scream of frustration she gave into her small frame for a moment and fell into the glittering particles. The fine material moved more like a liquid and reflected the sun back into her bitter eyes.

What was she doing,

Should she be traveling as she pleased or supposed to be living out her days in that dingy orphanage.

All her life there had always been someone telling her the next step and where to go and what to do. Now that she had freed herself from the constraints of her old life she felt like she was only guessing at what to do next. She had run for so long and bailed on the fate of her old life that now that the possibilities were there she didn't know what to do with them.

All of her research, all of her watching Riddle. what was the point of it, what did it really accomplish?

She loved the travel and amazing things out there to learn but now that there was no clear goal where there was once a great one...

What would she do if she found the text, what did she plan on doing with it.

Would she have to come up with one.

Her need for a goal and need for knowledge had been clashing and were no longer in harmony. It irked her to no end.

Brushing herself off she resolved to continue traveling and once Riddle went off to school to figure out a plan on actual goals.

After all it would have nothing to do with the boy, she needed to move on.

It was unhealthy to dwell.

At least logically she knew that.

 

 

 

England London, 12 August 1938

Any day now, any day Albus would be arriving for Tom, she knew.

She had been dreading this from the start and as the days passed Hermione's dread built upon itself, each day more stressful than the last.

How would she react?

when once again in the presence of a man whom she grew up with,

whom to her had been dead for many years,

and in her opinion, a death that marked the beginning of the end for her world.

Once he walked through Riddles door it would be sealed, the boys fate would be concrete and he would likely hurtle past her in power, once the boy knew he was magic she could do nothing to stop him. The last threshold would be crossed solidifying Toms place as forever untouchable.

Hermione had been given multiple years but it was sad how only in the last moments she had over Tom did she seem to care. It seemed when faced with losing an option, it was a hard idea to swallow that she would soon be unable to stop him, opposed to being able to choose to intervene. It left her feeling vulnerable to being subject to the life she was previously living, a horrible, fear ridden life that she dreaded most now.

She knew she was being a hypocrite, from the start she knew she would do nothing, it was only the idea that she could if she wanted,

but now that was coming to an end.

What could she do once this chapter in her life closed?

She could leave the orphanage, after getting her bearings she had left the orphanage to different countries for weeks at a time before.

But no...

it was like she orbited back to the decrepit place, no one questioned it or tried to stop her from coming and going. It was only herself that kept returning, morbid curiosity perhaps, to watch Riddle. It would burn at her if she thought she missed an important even in the boys life, whether in China or Mexico she would have been there for weeks when suddenly a wave of paranoia would sweep over her.

Did something happen that would stay with him forever

Did she miss an important event

What was he doing, was he plotting something

What ways was he hurting others

How had her presence or lack thereof shape his memory of her

How would he be different from her disrupting the timeline

She couldn't stop! It was eating her alive, she knew she had to bail, get out quick. But it was much harder doing just that than only recognizing it...

Was she really going to follow him to Hogwarts?

Hermione shook the thought out of her head and glanced back over towards the angry pale boy. Tom was hunched over perched on a windowsill with a new book in his hands, he was clutching it so tightly that his already snowy complexion lost even more color. His demeanor had scared off all the other kids, all but her.

Clearly something had angered him.

It wasn't surprising honestly, the boy was practically made of it. Well she guessed anger AND power.

With her inner dialogues comment she snorted, actually snorted.

Out loud.

Of course within earshot of Lord, Fucking, Voldemort.

Immediately the humor left her like a draining tub and her eyes directed all focus on Riddle.

He looked furious, as well as a lot of shock, and... well to be weighing pros and cons of saying something.

Hermione could feel her gut churn, because of the cold display she had shown throughout the years, a snort was the equivalent of farting in class, with Malfoy right behind her, right after his father scolded him.

To summarize it was bad.

Riddles mouth opened and closed multiple times, he seemed to be struggling to process what just happened.

She tried a dismissive approach

"yes Riddle?"

She cringed at how her disinterested tone now sounded quite pathetic given her previous snort. He seemed to collect himself as the immediate atmosphere chilled and his tone became frosty.

"What was that"

"What was what"

She had no other solutions at the moment so it seemed she was resorting to childish tactics.

"You- what do you mean 'what was what'. I heard... that"

"Then why did you ask if you already know?"

She felt like the Cheshire cat but she was desperate and mind fuckery was her best bet. Plus he was a kid and a literal one at that, she knew this tactic would throw him off balance because no one would dare play games with Riddle. She guessed it was only into puberty did he develop an appreciation for 'games'.

"You" he hissed

"Because you laughed, I didn't know you actually could" he recovered with an insult.

"Why" he finished

"Why what" Hermione didn't think she actually wanted an answer, in fact she wondered what would be the fastest out of the conversation with the prick.

"I just don't seem to find anything that could be so funny, let alone that you would find something so hilarious that you actually snort at me"

She realized he must have been growing restless after so many years of her looming over, it seemed Riddle didn't take well to feeling lorded over.

Whatever, nothing was keeping her from telling the truth.

"I was thinking of how you seem to be made of only two things, no in-between"

His nostrils flared and he seemed to hate not having a direct answer.

"And what would that be" a mix of fury and trepidation came out of him and she silently debated on telling more truth or not giving him the satisfaction.

"That you are purely anger"

A half truth was just as good she guessed.

He seemed the stutter in his own head as he blinked rapidly and make choking sounds of words that died in his throat. Hermione assumed no one had been that blunt with him and had not been trying to jab at him. She guessed she was the only person who could tell him that and for him to take their point seriously.

Damn she guessed she may be the only person that Riddle would ever take seriously, maybe Albus too but she couldn't say.

He settled on clamping his mouth shut and staring intently at the edge of the windowsill. In a rare moment he seemed sullen and his tone changed to... a hurt one? To say the least she was shocked the boy was showing 'weakness'.

"What gives you the right to assume that. You know nothing"

"It's all you are, all you do. Doesn't matter whats inside when all of your actions and expressions are anger"

His mouth made a thin line and he seemed on the verge of exploding as his cheeks flushed.

"So what, you think I don't have reason"

She almost snorted at him, again. What was going through his head?

"Everyone has reason, they just have control"

His face darkened and she realized once again he was openly displaying his true thoughts.

"I have control "

"Is that why Billy's rabbit ended up in the rafters?"

"So you think he should just be able to hit me with no consequence"

Well yes but you don't need to know that

"That's not what I said Riddle"

"Then what did you say?"

His tone was mocking and snarky, how did so much come out of her snorting.

"All I meant was your response towards anger is primal, uncontrolled. You do what you want with no thought. sure you may plan out the response but the response itself is not thought through more than what would make you most satisfied."

"Is that not the proper response. How should I respond, go to an adult"

His mocking carried on and Hermione could feel a headache coming on.

"There are different ways to respond beyond mutilating and intimidation"

"And you're one to talk"

"Look, the difference is it's the only response from you whereas you could try to befriend them instead of being hostile"

An uncomfortable silence hung and Hermione bit hard on her tongue the moment the words came out.

"You're an imbecile"

She wouldn't lie it did sting coming from someone as smart as Riddle but less so coming from a kid so she powered on.

"Coming from someone who's never tried"

This seemed to rile him up again but she'd admit that wasn't a hard task.

"I don't need to 'try' to know its a waste of time. It's only idiots and overly sentimental people who cling to something like friendship. People are only concerned for themselves, its the fools who weigh themselves down with 'friends'."

"People can only view the world from their own perspective, maybe it is for the best you don't make friends, for their sake. But I'm afraid i'll have to pop your bubble Tom, other people aren't only in it for themselves, sure some and it's easy to be selfish but I'll give you a word of advice since I doubt you could figure it out. Friends, real friends..."

She became solemn and though no tears came her voice was hollow and full of grief.

"They're the ones who you can be yourself with, the ones who can be the most honest with you and you are most honest with back and they'll still happily accept you because it's not who you are but what you do. They're the ones who balance you out keep you... grounded. They'll always be there for you, when it counts. There may be fights and it won't be perfect nor is it possible that they wont ever hurt you but in the end... in the end"

You still love them and they love you.

"How poetic, soppy, dreamy, and naive"

"Look Riddle, why don't you think about why you value power so much. If you think what I think about friendship is so stupid why don't you do some reflection on why you want power so much. I'll start you off, give you a starting point. What does power offer and why, honestly, really, why you want it's so bad. Another hint it's not to control people because that's just the byproduct not the reason to want it. Here just fill in the blank, because I feel like you'll still manage to fuck this up. Power is wanted because then people can't, Blank, you"

Hurt, Riddle the answer is Hurt. But still doubted he'd figure it out, he just wouldn't admit it to himself. She knew power also let you do what you want but for Riddle he could go off on his own and do as he pleased regardless of how much power he held over others. So that only left one reason power was so attractive to the boy. He would do anything to protect himself, even if it mean hurting others.

Hermione stood and walked off, leaving a flustered and furious Tom behind.

Even with what little conversation she had with him there seemed to be a pattern forming. No matter, she was unsettled. Riddle lied to everyone, about everything and anything.

So why wasn't he just then. When she thought back on it, all of his behavior around her was out of place.

Did he not know how to deal with her?

Was it because she was also magical?

 

 

 

England London, 18 August 1938

Of all the things that could be the outcome of talking with Riddle, Hermione was not expecting what actually happened.

For the last six days he had not come out of his room, of his own volition and not of Ms Coles punishment. The kids had two sides on the matter. Some were rejoiced and openly expressed their relief, while the smarter ones where wary and skittish.

However Hermione was more puzzled. She didn't think the conversation would have that much impact on him, the boy should have just brushed it off.

Was he demonstrating he had control in his own weird way?

Hermione sat on her bed puzzling over it, mostly just nervous because of how it could change Dumbledore's meeting with Tom.

Speaking of which, when was the man going to come for Riddle. He was certainly cutting it close to the start of classes.

Honestly it was no surprise the two men got off on the wrong foot, with their personalities they were practically opposites.

Soon the girls bladder was calling for her attention and reluctantly she stood from her spot. She nearly lost her composure when she opened the door to come to face with the professor and Ms Cole walking past. As they passed she couldn't help but stare at them and marvel at her timing.

She could hear their whispered conversation that followed along the same lines Harry had repeated.

Frozen she debated between holding her pee or risking showing up in the memory, she wouldn't be born here anyway. Mentally she took not at the reminder to get on the task of neutering her own grandfather.

The sound of a sink running reached her ears and she gritted her teeth as she clutched onto her door frame. It was too much and she stiffly made her way down the hall.

She repeated a mantra in her head as she approached the now open door of Riddles room.

Don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look.

She passed with no issue and tracked on towards the bathroom and glared at the small girl who walked out (the source of the sink sounds). She finished her business quickly and tracked back repeating the same mantra.

Don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look, don't look.

With her luck just as she passed the dresser lit on fire.

So there the three of them were.

The tackily dressed Albus, angry Riddle, and her a small orphan girl who wished to shrivel up and disappear.

Albus quickly stood and plastered a 'warm' smile on as the wardrobe returned to unlit status.

Poor Dumbledore, she ruined his big trick.

The professor pulled her in and closed the door behind her. She wasn't liking the direction this was heading. Plus she doubted Tom would be so forgiving with her for ruining his 'big moment'.

What did she want to do in this moment, she didn't need to be playing any part. If she wanted she could give him a scare. But then she would have to bear its consequences. One thing was for certain she needed to act fast or likely risk exposure.

"Young lady, I'm afraid I have to ask you what you just saw now."

As usual Riddle watched intently. It seemed the kid found entertainment in her life, she could only hope he would stay out of it and would keep his mouth shut about her odd behaviors.

"I've seen nothing"

She hoped the man would let her be.

"Ah, I'm afraid we both know that's not the case"

Being so close to him was starting to make her bristle, with the way he was holding her arm and his young features. Without her consent her body started to shake, his scent and demeanor. He was younger and routier but the same, so unnaturally the same. She started to choke up and her sight blurred, the man becoming a mass of color. Her knees weakened and she felt the professor catch her with his other hand. Her head burned.

This is what she was afraid of! Merlin why did it have to be him.

I'm so sorry, I failed. I'm weak. I, I just couldn't take it anymore. I never had a choice in it, I just wanted it all to end.

She gripped harder onto the mans clothing. It was too unfair, why couldn't she move on. Why couldn't her life be her own.

She could hear Tom scoff, hearing the boy was like a douse of cold water.

"Stop it, its unbearable how fake you are"

Hermione looked at the boy, she could see he believed his words. It sobered her to reality, it was sad how it was Riddle who seemed to remind her she wasn't a good person. She was in no position to be clinging to Dumbledore's robes.

Her expression was wiped clean and she stood, there was no more redemption for her. And she would just have to live with that

Albus seemed shaken and stammered a bit before Tom beat him to it.

"She's 'magical' too. If what you say is true, then wouldn't you see that. Its painfully obvious"

Hermione scowled at the boy for his petty one up on the man.

"I" The man seemed to be collecting his thoughts before he addressed the boy "how do you know this"

Tom, after many years had finally mastered his careful expressions and lies.

"She's vanished and reappeared, healed bones in an instant, so on"

She noted he left out some nefarious parts and in an odd way she felt as if he was covering for her. In his own selfish way. If only for the sake of how she never approved of how Albus treated Tom she returned the weird half favor he gave her.

"As for you, Ms Cole has always blamed any bad that happens here on you, I've only ever seen you trip others and small tricks. Don't think he's some mastermind"

She finished turning towards Dumbledore in a tone that was the closest she could get to a child mocking the other. Hermione knew she was helping the devil but she also knew very well people tend to hate the things they can never have and she knew she could never go back to the light. So why help it.

Though she didn't think the boy knew it was to help him.

Albus seemed puzzled and unsure of how to proceed. His expression was wary and seemed to reassess her, her stomach sunk as she recognized the look as the one Harry described the same one he had given Riddle. Now it seemed she was the target of his suspicions. Way to bail Tom out.

"I was not aware of any other children here, for clarity's sake, and I know its a lot to ask, are you able to demonstrate. Don't worry if you are unable many children at this age are not capable of doing anything on command and only produce accidental magic, but if you're able..."

Hermione nearly rolled her eyes at the rambling man and she flicked her fingers.

In an instant one of Riddles rocks flew into her hands, to the utter frustration of Tom and shock of the professor. She already was on the mans proverbial shit list why pretend to struggle with the task.

"Ah, I see... Well in that case I'll arrange for the both of you to be enrolled this year, you'll both need to purchase school supplies, there will be funds provided for the both of you. I will help you both while shopping-"

"That won't be necessary"

"There's no need"

Both children spoke over the other and both seemed peeved by it.

The older man seemed to have gained his composure once again as he warily chuckled at the children.

"Then I'll send for you tomorrow"

He turned to leave and walked out with only a contemplating glance at her.

Great she was taking Riddles place.

Both kids stared at one another, unsure of what to do. Riddle moved first and snatched his rock back out of her hands and carefully placed it back. Turning back at her he raised a brow, clearly expecting something. Her clearly not picking up on his hint, he huffed.

"Leave."

Hermione stood for a moment and let it hit her that she didn't immediately run out, very careless.

"Oh-"

"NOW"

He interrupted and she assumed he felt insulted from her downplay of his abilities. Little prick, he didn't seem to get she was helping him.

Whatever, his loss.

It's not like- ... she cared...

Ok, maybe a little. But what's the problem with that, it was only because the boy would likely try to get back at her for his perceived transgression. It seemed his fear be damned, he didn't like her and she had insulted his pride so, clearly, she must pay with open hostility.

Stiffly Hermione exited the room and made her way back towards her room.

How did she get in this mess.

She didn't mean now being admitted into Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Nor did she mean her stay at wool's. Not even her ending up in 1938 as a child of all things. Nope not the wizarding war or Riddles life enveloping hers.

She meant how did she get thrown into the middle of this magical world. She knew she had spent more of her life as a witch than not but she couldn't help but still feel like that muggle child who was determined to shine in the non magical academic world. The child who felt awe when first discovering the magical world. She still felt it sometimes, the complete awe of magic and the things in this world but other times it was scary so utterly terrifying. She would often relate with Harry over it while Ron would listen in utter bafflement that anyone could see magic as anything amazing or terrifying.

Hermione thought maybe Tom felt the same way.


	6. Status

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to all of those who leave Kudos and bookmarks. AriHuntington thank you for your support I'll try to keep updates fairly close. AmeliaFuentes all of your enthusiastic comments are always amazing and I love hearing your reaction to what is going on. Lbaybay I'm glad you like that it strays off path, it can be refreshing sometimes. Guest I'm glad you enjoy the characters, this chapter is full of new ones so be prepared. Nonni strap yourself in for some answers, also the support is felt and appreciated. Brooklynhills I loved all of your comments and I hope you enjoy this next chapter its been a bit of a wait. Guest your enthusiasm for the story is incredibly motivating and I was touched by your comments. Huy Dumbledore wont give in easily, shes gonna have a tough time with him lol but it is a fun role reversal. Thank you all so much for your feedback it really does help and is appreciated. Sorry for the wait!

England London, 19 August 1938

 

“Ms Granger”

“Ms Granger, did you not hear me?”

Hermione looked up at the young Albus, who now stood with the two orphans in front of the brick wall leading to diagon alley. 

 

“No sir”

“I had asked if you were sure you were alright to shop on your own, young Tom here said he’s changed his mind. You may as well, if you’d like.”

She looked over at Riddle who made a show to smirk at her from behind Dumbledore's back. Hermione furrowed her brow in suspicion. what made him change his mind, Riddle wasn’t the type to just happen to change so easily. A plan or some sneaky move was being used but she wasn’t quite sure what his goal was, her best guess was kissing Dumbledore's ass but he had never tried to do the same in her time. Maybe because he quickly found the man was not receptive but on the other hand the boy was incredibly independent so there had to be good reason to ask the professor for help when he hadn't before. 

Hermione glared at the boy and the move was not lost on Albus.

“Do not try to sway your peer, Ms Granger. I can assure you your friend here will make his own decisions”

Did he think she was manipulating Riddle? Yeah right, her use Riddle, in what world would that happen.

“I have no interest in being escorted, I will find my way.”

Riddles face soured and the professor seemed on the fence of not letting her go off.

She took no chances and proceeded to shock both party members when she approached the wall, tapping the bricks to reveal the alley. 

She weaved through the crowds easily, obscuring herself as to not be seen or followed by either person she came with. Hermione could only picture the look on both of their faces but restrained herself from turning back. 

As she drew deeper into the roads she slowed her pace and pulled out the list Albus had handed her before entering the leaky cauldron. 

For clothing  
-Three Sets of Plain Work Robes  
-One Plain Pointed Hat  
-One Pair of Protective dragon hide Gloves  
-One Winter Cloak  
Luckily she had the clothing thing down, with all the travel she had been doing she had a small array of robes that were Hogwarts approved. The books, well she already had all of the books. So that crossed over half of the list off.  
-1 Wand  
She wasn’t going to use Bellatrix's in school. Then again she wasn’t going to go to Ollivanders too…

Excitement spread through her as the idea came to her,  
she could make her own. Witches and wizards used to make their wands, in a way it was bringing back that tradition. Something she assumed could be appreciated by both sides of the future wizarding war.  
Once she settled on the idea she scanned the rest of the list.  
-1 Cauldron -pewter, standard size 2  
-1 set of glass or crystal phials  
-1 telescope  
-1 set of brass scales  
-Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad.

Well she had all that too, all but a pet. 

She thought over it for a moment. Did she really want a pet, she could just look at some... see if any caught her fancy. 

Looking out at the cobbled street and bustling magic folk she decided it wouldn’t hurt to look. 

Entering Eeylops Owl Emporium Hermione was greeted with a fairly dim room with distinct screeching from all directions. A frail woman sat by the counter whose wispy hair floated around her head with a hunched frame as she wrote in a ledger. The moment the bell rang the woman's head shot up and once Hermione was in her sight a large smile broke out across her face. 

“What can I help ya with dear”

“Just browsing mam”

Man it was weird to be addressing adults like that again.

“anything ya like anything at all, you just come over an let me know”

The woman smiled warmly as Hermione nodded and began to peruse the shop, then quickly resumed jotting down on the ledger. 

The shop was small but even with its small stature it was packed with more options than Hermione thought possible. Barn owl, screech owl, tawny owl, barred owl, and more. To her they seemed to blend, she had seen so many before from all her years at hogwarts. She assumed these were the common ones, the ones generally used and seen as starters for children. 

She scowled to herself, if she had to be a child in every other way, why not get a wilder breed. It's not as if they said what kind of owl you could bring. 

At the counter a perch caught her eye, on it was an enormous bird at least its wing were. She assumed if it stretched its wingspan it would roughly be the size of a grown man. The owls eyes had a striking orange and two black ear tufts stuck up on its head. 

As if mesmerized she walked up to the massive bird. The woman's head shot up and eyes quickly followed her line of sight towards the owl by her. 

“Ah, sorry dear thisn isn't for sale”

“What is it?”

Hermione stared up at the creature and it seemed to puff up, as if to say ‘yes I know, I know I'm too magnificent’. 

“A Eurasian eagle-owl, not many around here in the possession of wizards. But the ministry has left him with me for the time being, something about its owner and an ongoing investigation. They'll come for this bird soon, yes not much time now.”

Hermione reached out and the bird stretched its head down to encourage her impulse. She wanted this bird, ministry be damned. 

“Shame too, to waste such a bird. Suppose the ministry will be usin it for long distance mail after the investigation is done.”

Quietly Hermione summoned her wand and hid it within the folds of her cloak. 

The woman leaned in conspiratorially and whispered.

“I didn’t get much out of the auror that came by to drop et off, only that the owner of this here bird was a nasty man. Terribly foul” 

The woman leaned back and shook her head opening her mouth to follow up her statements. 

Hermione shifted in place and coiled up her magic, getting ready to pounce. 

 

“Ah but if this bird caught your eye, there are a few that resem-”

“STUPEFY”

The woman, still sitting, slammed into the back wall with the chair and slumped over obscuring her face from veiw, the sound of stress over dry, brittle wood echoing. The owls screeched with new intensity and violently beat their wings against their cages. 

With little time between stunning the woman Hermione flicked her wand, slamming the shutters and open sign over. 

“It's nothing personal. Really.”

And she directed her wand once again at the unconscious woman while her owl of choice watched on with curiosity. 

Another flick of her wand and ropes transfigured from the wood on the armrest to tightly wrap around the woman's wrists. 

One more flick and the woman was up once more.

“Wha-”

“I'm going to stop you there, Dear”

Hermione mocked back

Both women stared into each others eyes, Hermione felt her eyes marble over and herself hollow as she pointed her wand at the woman once more.

She really wanted that bird.

“Imperio”

She hissed the word out with little struggle. 

‘Tonight you will leave your window ajar, the cool night air for the birds to relax. You will remember nothing about meeting me, you won't even recognize me on the streets. You will leave the Eurasian eagle-owl uncaged.’

While the woman was in a daze Hermione turned and with one last flick, the chair and shutters returned to their place and she snuck quietly out the door, only letting the woman see the end of her as she left the shop. 

The streets outside merrily moved on, oblivious towards the nefarious activities that were previously happening. 

It was clear how content the wizarding world was to turn a blind eye to anything that didn't involve them, knowing that it made it clear why it took so long (only after a war had broke out) for anyone to take action against Riddle. The wizarding community had it deeply ingrained in them to only involve themselves if it could directly affect them, other than that everyone was on their own. Everybody for themselves she guessed.

Her eyes scanned over the shoppers and buildings in contempt. 

Across the street she spotted something that stopped her heart in its tracks.

Inside Quality Quidditch supplies stood a pale pointy looking blonde surrounded by other children as she recognized well when a Malfoy was showing off. Was this child a great uncle a grandfather, who knew. But she could see the resemblance. Given they did not look exactly the same but the snotty pale features transcended generations and the haughty spoiled attitude wasn't new to the family it seemed. Though the boy was likely a few years older than a first year and it relieved her that she would not, for a second time, be in a Malfoys class. 

Looking up the street she caught Riddle and Albus just in time, leaving otage's Cauldron Shop. Riddle seemed strained to keep his mask up and for the briefest moments she caught his eye. His face remained the same but his eyes, well his eyes screamed murder. It seemed he and Albus were having a lovely time.

She might as well have fun while she still could, she was stuck with the devil for the next seven years of her life. 

Hermione weaved her way across the street and only once was hit in the face by an oversized robe. Standing in the entrance of the Quidditch shop the smell of leather and wood polish hit her first. The older kids and adults paid her no mind, some smaller children glanced at her but quickly returned to fawning over the brooms and fantasizing over joining a quidditch team. 

In no rush Hermione slowly wandered over to the group around Malfoy, stopping to look at the brooms or ‘new’ gear. She stopped by a set of bludgers last, then within earshot of the group.

“I wish my father would get me one”

A round stout looking boy said, he was pale with a dust of freckles and a drooping face. 

“Bet you do, Longbottom.”

The crowd laughed looking down their noses at the poor boy who opened his mouth, while his face turned red.

“Only the best of the best have a Comet 180! They sold out the minute they hit the market. My father has friends at the comet trading Co. and had mine engraved with the Malfoy crest. Only one of its kind” The snotty Malfoy said as he admired his broom with many oos and aas from the other children. 

“How much did that cost”

A scrawny child with dark features, who looked to be her year, said.

“Good question Phincas. Normally something like this-”

He pointed to the silver embroidered crest.

“Would cost 50 galleons, you know they don’t have this sort of thing on market, its one of a kind. But add that with the initial cost of 30 galleons.”

Shit, she had let something so obvious like inflation slip her mind and she cursed to herself realizing the knockturn alley shop owners had likely swindled her. Because no Malfoy from her time would brag about such a ‘small’ amount, but in 1938 well she guessed it was impressive.

The children ooed and aaed once more, feeding Malfoys already disproportionate ego.

“So your father spent 80 galleons! Just for the broom.”

A brutish twisted looking kid exclaimed.

“Oh Gideon, Father insisted to but the company insisted more that it was a gift. By all means we saw no issue in paying but they were just so adamant to give it to us for free.”

His snooty nose went up in the air as the group clamored for a third time.

A boy with his face smeared in chocolate, gripping onto a melted candy bar, spoke up. The thin boy had strawberry blonde hair and the deep brown eyes of a puppy combined with a face that seemed pushed up. 

“My dad said that a better model is coming out soon, guess you shouldn't have gotten that one”

All eyes turned to the boy and a chill settled over everyone, surprisingly they all glanced at one another unsure of what to do. Now that was interesting, who could make people hesitate from sucking up to a malfoy. The child didn’t seem aware of his own actions and unknowingly stepped in a bear trap. 

“Yes well, Eustace, it’s still newest in season and when the next one comes out I’ll be sure to get that one too.” Malfoy ground out, as if it was painful to entertain this kid rather than rip him to pieces. 

Interesting, anyone who could neuter a Malfoy surely held power within the wizarding community.

The group was interrupted when a long pale man made his way over towards the children with a haughty look she recognized well on a pureblood. It was likely this was Malfoy's father.

“My sincerest apology for interrupting your fun boys, but I believe it is time for us to leave…”

He held out his hand towards his son.

“Abraxas”

Obediently the boy followed his father without so much as a wave goodbye to the others. But before completely passing the group the older Malfoy stopped and nodded at the oblivious chocolate boy.

“Fawley, tell your father I said hello. And make sure to remind him of the Malfoys… continuing support for his office holding”

The man drawled much like Lucius in tone. It was the small boys turn to shrink and he meekly answered.

“ Of course Mr Malfoy”

With a flip of his hair the man dragged his son away and out of the shop. 

Hermione moved quickly and slid behind a counter as she summoned Harry's cloak. She rushed slipping past crowds in an attempt to catch up with the two Malfoys. To her great relief they stopped at Twilfitt and Tatting’s, the older Malfoy took out a pouch and brushed the boy off before sending him in alone before walking off to gringots (she assumed). 

Perfect.

Slipping into the alley beside the shop Hermione put the cloak away and entered the store behind the young Malfoy. 

The entrance had expensive looking fabrics with flowing intricate patterns and only the shimmer of infused magic displayed. It was muffled and warm but certainly high end. Many outfits on mannequins were posed around them and ancient ornate furniture sat in the middle for any person waiting. Only a young woman stood sprucing up a display, she was tall with swampy hair and grey skin. 

Malfoy walked up to the woman without even a glance at the bell that rung behind him and the girl who entered soon after.

“Ah Mr Malfoy beginning a new school year already, it seems like yesterday I was fitting you for your first year. I’m honored, for your continued patronage” 

“Of course, this shop is the best of the best. Why go anywhere else?”

The woman chuckled and nodded while motioning for the boy to come over. Still it seemed no one payed her mind. Hermione started to walk around the shop, let herself ‘browse’ the contents while Malfoy and the woman conversed. 

The woman started measuring the boy and taking notes down while sending cloth through the air checking each one for the very best material to make the new robes.

“I liked what you did last year, with the hidden pocket. My father said that was a feature common in previous robes. As you’d expect from an establishment like this, true robe making. Has an understanding of history, you know. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why it ever fell out of fashion?” 

“Well in recent times the practice has been labeled medieval, as if protecting yourself has ever become unnecessary.”

The two laughed and Hermione felt a shiver wash over her, this was the attitude that Riddle had capitalized on. Older families feeling entitled and wronged by what they deemed beneath them. Hermione struggled to restrain herself from reaching for her wand.

“My mother said in the prophet they were praising this new material called Vigilance of the pire, it protects against most minor jinxes and curses. I think I would like my new robes to use the material.”

Hermione had read about that in Wizarding robes of the early 20th century, sadly for Malfoy the product was a sham it only protected against a few specific minor spells but any other jinx thrown his way was fair game.

This could be fun.

“Of course, Mr Malfoy”

The woman shuffled around and returned carrying a dark cloth with black vine like stitching swirling about and presented it to him with a half bowed gesture. The young Malfoy let out a breath and felt the cloth as if it was a precious thing.

“Its fake, you know”

The two purebloods whipped their heads over in her direction with shocked and insulted expressions.

“Who- what ever do you mean, this is tested and approved by the prophet. Octavian Oddpick approved. I assure you that whatever… jealous rumor you’ve heard is false”

The woman appeared to dismiss her as she mad a move to put the cloth over Malfoy's shoulder before the boys hand shot up to halt the woman as he scrutinized Hermione and nodded at her as if to taunt her on.

“Put the cloth on” 

Hermione deadpanned as gestured with her head towards the woman. The woman in turn just stared back at her and scoffed as if to say ‘like I have too’. But once she turned towards Malfoy the words died in her throat as the boy looked at her as if to say ‘go on do it’ with a smug look.

The woman hesitated before apprehensively putting it on.

Hermione aimed dead on the womans heart and shot.

“Flipendo”

Sending the woman flying back into the displays behind her, much to Malfoys shock. The tall woman clamored to get up but Hermione silently stunned her, shocking Malfoy further. Because of course he just witnessed a younger child produce fairly impressive wordless magic. 

Hook.

“A cure all charm to cloth is sadly not possible, as amazing as that would be. Only counters for specific spells, for each jinx or curse you have to individually charm the garment. Though the cloth she presented to you is expensive, don't be fooled. If the cloth was what it claims to be it would cost a small fortune… not that that would be an issue for you, it just wouldn’t be on the mainstream market or be advertised in the prophet. If you would like something similar to what you described I will happily point you in the direction of where you would find one.” 

Line

“Who are you exactly?” He said with curiosity in his squinting grey eyes. 

“You’ll know soon, until then”

She waved him off and only paused by the door before leaving to release the woman from the bind.

And sinker

Hermione walked off to head back to meet Albus and Tom to return to the orphanage. She found the two standing outside of Ollivanders with Tom clinging to the new yew wand with an amused Albus, surrounded by all of the new packages. 

How had her presence in this time changed Dumbledore's view of Tom so drastically. It was unfair and if Hermione was one to give in to childish tendencies she might pout or stomp her foot. Albus wasn’t supposed to like Tom, how was she worse than him, So much so that he actually liked the boy!? Bitterness gripped her and she stalked over towards the two. 

“Ms Granger we were just about to go find you, did you find all that you needed?”

Albus was searching her eyes, but for what she didn’t know.

“Of course sir”

The man raised his eyebrows and looked around.

“Pardon, but you don’t seem to have anything with you”

Shit.

How had she let something so obvious slip her mind like that. 

“Purchased a bag to hold my belongings”

“With what money, I never had a chance to hand it to you”

Double shit

“I have my own”

To prove her point Hermione pulled some galleons out. The older man just stood shocked, trying to piece together the scene before him. A young orphan girl who knew a great deal about the wizarding world and had her own money. The only conclusion that could be formed was that she had to of previously known about the wizarding world and had some foothold in it before finding herself in the orphanage.

“Forgive me but I don’t quite understand how you are so knowledgeable of the wizarding community?”

“I’ve only lived in the orphanage for a few years, before that I lived in the magical world”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Odd, I don’t remember haring the surname Granger before.”

“My parents were out of country before I came here, not very involved with wizarding Britain”

Still not lies.

“Hm”

Was all the man responded with, she knew he hadn't let the subject go but knew it would be suspicious to be interrogating an eleven year old in public no less.

The three headed back to the orphanage and once the rusted gates shut behind the two Albus was gone. 

Riddle turned to Hermione and let the mask he had been straining to keep up all day fall.

“You didn’t tell me” He accused in a venomous tone.

“Tell you what”

She knew what.

“That I’m a wizard, why didn’t you tell me about the magical world”

He was pissed.

“Because I have no obligation to do so” She hissed back.

The boys nostrils flared and he violently collected his things then stomped away. That was the shortest argument she had ever had with the young lord, she never would understand the little megalomaniac.

In tail, Hermione calmly made her way to her room to wait for nightfall, that owl was going to be hers soon so at the very least she had that to look forward to.

 

 

 

England London, 1 September 1938

 

The high pitched whistle and familiar steam of the Hogwarts express assaulted her senses. Hermione's face remained blank but a storm of anger raged on inside, rage over how unfair it was that she was now roped into spending the next seven years of her life attending Hogwarts with Riddle.

Hermione had to control herself well this year, she had slipped up too many times since she had gone back. At Hogwarts she would have to have (as Moody would say) constant vigilance. Tom was likely never going to let it go that she hadn’t seen it fit to inform him about his magical status and Albus had his attentions on the wrong child! For merlin's sake the man had even scrutinized her hair, of all things, it wasn’t as if it held an especially dark secret concealed within its wildness.

That man, honestly.

Luckily she wouldn’t be starting the term with Bellatrix's wand, if all went according to plan, it had taken a while for her to gather all the necessary materials for a wand and she had struggled over what wood to use but eventually settled on one she liked. pine. What drew her to it was that it was observed that those who had pine wands often lived long lives. She guessed it was a parallel to the elder wand, just that the owner would live longer instead of dying quickly. 

Now the core, well. Her time at war had changed her priorities, slightly. 

So inspired by the story of the deathly hallows she was dead set on thesteral hair (on her part assuming that that was indeed what was in the core of the elder wand). She wanted power and that seemed like the best bet. She even knew where she was going to get the hair. Her plan, she felt, was solid. Hogwarts used thetrals for the carriages, if she could quickly collect even just a few strands she would be set. She would never have to worry about Tom getting the elder wand, she would never have to fear anyone overpowering her. Once she left Hogwarts she would be unburdened.

Hermione knew she was on a path for power, the difference between her path and others was not to lord over the world but to be free of its constraints. 

Hermione climbed onto the train and B-lined for the back, looking for an empty compartment. Masses of kids bustled around looking for friends or putting their luggage away. Right at the end was a free compartment and she slipped in, quietly closing the door behind her. 

Pulling out the materials she had for the wand she began to carve not just the shape but small runes lining the inside of where the theatral hair was to go. What little information her research turned up made it clear the material wasn't heavily used in the magical world due to its volatile temperance and unstable nature. The wand would need a lot of workarounds to work properly but she believed in her abilities.

It had been a relief on her part to find that because her magic was already mature that the ministry was unable to detect ‘underage’ magic. So at the very least she was still free to do as she wished outside of Hogwarts and complete her current project without alerting the authorities. 

Right as the train began to pull out she heard a groups laughter approach and her compartment door open. 

Hermione looked up from her work to find none other than Malfoy with a group of other students. Both parties just stared at one another, while she sat with conspicuous articles spewn about the compartment. No first year should be capable of what was being displayed by her.

She made the first move.

“Hello, lovely seeing you again.”

Her face was dead giving no emotion away. The other children seemed unsure and teetering between disgust and approval, looking at one another for clues on how to react. Malfoy on the other hand seemed ecstatic, confirming to the other kids to approve of her. 

“Its you! This is the girl from diagon alley I was talking about. What are the odds of meeting you here”

The Malfoy she was seeing today was in stark contrast with the snotty one she saw in diagon alley, it seemed she was somehow able to bring out the childish wonderment of the boy. She knew that it wouldn't be possible to pull that emotion out of the young Malfoy soon so she had won the social jackpot as far as she was concerned. Perhaps the boy was secretly desperate for a real deeper connection with someone, one that was beneficial of course.

“Not very high I’d assume”

She quickly made space for them as the group sat with her, with an especially eager Malfoy across from her. 

“Might I now have your name”

He said with his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned in.

“Won’t you hear it in the sorting ceremony”

The child's eyes widened and the kids around quietly spoke to one another.

“You mean you’re a first year”

Amazement and greed mixed in his expression, it was clear from all of the reactions that the young Malfoy had shared with his peers how a child had stunned an adult, wordless magic too. 

“What family are you from?”

Came from the one unimpressed child in the room and all other children looked with rapt attention.

“I should ask the same of you”

Hermione retorted to the feline looking boy.

“Amias Nott”

He gutted out his chin and nodded towards her.

“Your turn”

The room was still and all children looked at her with stony faces, she broke the still when she grinded and responded with a laugh. The children joined her mistaking her humor as her confirming that she was ‘Pure’ as it was ridiculous to assume otherwise.

“Granger”

The laughter died quickly.

“I've never heard of a… Granger”

A snotty girls voice broke in and with her dark features Hermione safely assumed the girl was a Black.

Either way it was time to start stretching her lying capabilities.

“That's why they chose it”

The children learned in with confused expressions. Internally Hermione cringed but knew she would have to bite back her pride and proceed with her next words.

“Oh honestly, you didn’t really think a half-blood, let alone muggleborn, could produce such powerful magic as a first year, not to mention understand magical tools.”

Copper taste filled her mouth as she bit her tongue while the brats practically howled in laughter. Honestly they didn’t need to laugh so hard at her medium grade snot comment.

“My parents never talked about their family names, I only found the documentation that they changed their last names. So who knows honestly, but it's fairly undeniable with the level of performance I've shown at such a young age. It's only been recorded that pureblood children are capable of such things”

She hated it but it was effective. The plan was simple and long lasting. It used their biases against them. When she put it like she did they could parade her around to meet their own ends of finding flimsy proof of superiority and their own bigotry would prevent them from accepting that a halfblood or a muggleborn COULD surpass them the superior pureblood. 

All children nodded along, all but Nott who just glared from across the compartment, arms crossed. 

“Incredible, I can just tell this year is going to be exiting”

Malfoy changed the subject quickly, seemingly satisfied with her answers. It shouldn’t have been that easy, but then again they didn’t seem to realize their biggest weakness was their bigotry, it made them blind to how flimsy of proof that was. But it was the answer they wanted so she had already won before they even opened their mouths.

“How right you are, Mr Malfoy”

The boy puffed up at her address of him. It seemed if it was one of his peers, he enjoyed feeling like an adult... or just the respect from a powerful peer meant more than his family's connections… 

good to know. 

The girl from before did a turn around and put on a well practiced smile and suck out her hand.

“Walburga Black”

Hermione remained calm. 

The young Walburga had a face like a Japanese Noh mask and a angrily thin frame with fine clothing and pungent perfumes. All instinct in Hermione warned her against the girl and that the girl was hiding something but she was already in the viper's den there was no escape now.

“Nice to meet you”

Hermione responded with equal honey and shook the girls hand, plastering on an equally thick mask.

“This is Lucretia Black and Alphard Black we’re all first years… Like you”

She still had a large smile plastered on and it felt like she was putting emphasis on her last words but just barely, enough to make you question it.

The other two Blacks seemed more uncomfortable being put on the spot and just mumbled their greetings.

Odd

Before Hermione could dig into it more an older child with a crooked mouth took his chance to introduce himself.

“Gideon Flint, third year like Abraxas here”

The boys shared a laugh and turned towards the last two in the group.

A small mousy girl with a sour face and a boy strongly resembling Durmstrang as a whole.

“Isadora Yaxely, s-second year” She squeaked

The boy more grunted out his name.

“Dimitri Dolohov ”

All children waited for him to finish and only after a short pause did he catch on and exasperatedly finished, as if it was a chore.

“Also, second year”

This year was going to be a test of her patience, she could already feel the headache coming on.


	7. Unrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you I_swear_Im_going_to_read_that, I appreciated the 3 pennies in spirit enjoy the update. spyral81 I hope you like this update too! AriHuntington I'm so glad you like it, its a very niche fanfic so it means a lot. Huy Twists and turns all around, I hope you like them. Erika I love the enthusiasm it is very encouraging! JacksNervesOfSteel Thank you I wanted to have a darker Hermione and couldn't find one so I made one myself. AmeliaFuentes more is now here, after too long... I'm so sorry I need to get on this better. heffy I'm trying to pace it, but let me know if its too fast or slow. Marzean876 I really feel bad that this has taken too long for an update but thank you for reading!
> 
> Thank you to all who left Kudos and read, I'm sorry this has taken so long and won't make an excuse because the fact of the matter is its on me to do better and will try to in the future. But on a brighter note here is chapter 7!

Scotland Hogwarts, 1 September 1938

 

“Hermione, are you coming” Abraxas called to her from the compartment door. 

"You may go without me"

He had his brows furrowed and looked like he wanted to say something more but didn't voice it, just standing unsure in the compartment door.

“Go on ahead, there's a few things I need to take care of first”

The boy hesitantly nodded and turned to walk off with the rest of the group, leaving her alone in the compartment. 

Like he actually cared.

It was none of his concern anyway, what she did that was. It wasn't as if she could just tell him 'hey Abraxas, hows it going. Lets go over the the thesterals, oh what are those you ask don't you worry about them kid just trust me they're there, I just need to make a super powerful wand out of those hair they have. No you say, am I crazy you ask?' yes she could see how well that would turn out for her. 

Gathering her things she moved quickly to pull the cloak over her small frame and slip out the back of the train. Jumping down from the caboose to the gravel path, she felt the cool fall air hit her on impact and inhaled its calming scent as she stood back up. The trees around her rustled and she looked up at the familiar station. She was back at Hogwarts. A pain shot through her heart as she watched children bustle towards the carriages unaware to the danger awaiting them in the future. It was likely their only concern was over the threat of Grindelwald. 

She avoided the main path and walked along its edge, watching the children pour out of the train joking with friends and talking excitedly about the coming school year. A greasy looking man with patchy robes and a warty face called the first years to him. 

Weaving her way around the jostling figures she made her way carefully away from the first years and to the carriages. 

Hermione quickened her pace heading straight for a thesteral, determined to get it over with quickly. 

The one she approached was immense at least to her child body, the creature seemed to tower over her and stood a good two feet taller than her.

She let her hand trail along its side, feeling the ridges of its skeletal frame. The beast looked back at her in curiosity as the small girl traveled further down the animals side. Hermione stopped at its tail and took deep calming breaths as she was unsure as to what the thestrals reaction would be to having some tail hair ripped out. 

Could she just rip it out though?

Right before her hand touched the hairs her hand stalled as a memory bubbled up. The phoenix of harry's wand only gave two feathers. Only gave two. Gave…

It wouldn’t work by force. 

Her stomach dropped as this new challenge reared its ugly head and she puzzled over how she was going to convince a thesteral to hand over some hair. Only one wand was likely to have been made of the material, one and that was all. She let her hand trail down the tail and the horse like creature flicked her hand away. 

How had she been so stupid.

Damn it all. She knew she had to recoup and come back better prepared. At least she knew they would be waiting in the forbidden forest, so that meant she could find them again when ready. 

Hermione looked over her shoulder back at the gathered first years getting ready to leave. Sighing she slipped away from the carriages and older students to her soon to be class and pulled off the cloak while the children stared up at the greasy man in trepidation. 

Very quickly Riddle found her eyes with squinted suspicion but she brushed him off easily and climbed onto a boat, ready to get it all over with.

The man, whose name was Ogg the grounds keeper of Hogwarts, went on about the school and where to go once they got to the docks. But no child in the boat listened all but one child stared up in wonderment at the lit castle with its lights twinkling back in the lakes reflective surface. 

Hermione held in her grumblings as the kids around her jostled the boat in attempt to get a better look at the immense school. The boat was too compact and the children had forced the seating arrangements to fit their social needs. 

Walburga Black had situated herself and her relatives right next to Hermione while Nott sat cross armed across whispering to a boy with deep circles around his eyes and the face of a grumpy old man. Riddle talked to no one but had a child with messy dark hair and spectacles chatting his ear off. While a small girl with bobbed maple hair bombarded the grounds keeper with questions. 

“Hermione dear, what do you think of my bracelet” Walburga questioned while holding up her arm.

A small pendant sat on thin silver chain and she had to lean in to make out the pattern on the flat reflective pendant. From what she could make out it had the pattern of an egg with a birch branch surrounding it. An odd but likely symbolic choice. Weather Walburga knew it or not. Birch meant a new beginning roughly and an egg well she was more in guessing territory without knowing what kind of egg but it was clear enough to get an idea.

“It's more meaningful than decorative, a surprising choice but a good one nonetheless” Hermione carefully responded. 

It seemed her response was the correct one as Walburga smiled and rested her hand over Hermione's, once again it felt as if the girls words meant more than surface level but she was not catching on. 

“I think so too” Walburgas words were almost giddy with excitement and Hermione felt even more lost as to the girls actual intent.

The other two Black children just glanced at one another, sitting stiff and unsure. Alphard seemed under his sisters tight leash and had a sort of comradery with his second cousin Lucretia over the domineering Walburga.

The children traveled through the cave entrance letting vines pass over them as they stopped with a sudden jolt in a dark cave, letting them know it was time to get off. The kids crowded as they made their way up the damp stone stairs and the reality begun to hit Hermione once the group stood on the lawn of the massive ancient castle. It had been so long since she had last set foot on these grounds and there it sat before any carnage, unaware of what was to come. 

Her body moved on its own as she walked with the group, staring up at the long stone walls. She didn’t hear any of the words coming out of Ogg as the group made their way up to the entrance. 

For a moment Hermione had to remind herself that behind those heavy doors would not be the stern face of Mcgonagall or the scowling face of Snape, not any of the faces she had grown up with, Harry or Ron. She would be entering Riddles world, an unfamiliar Hogwarts one that knew no war at least not as students.

Waiting by the massive entrance stood Albus, waiting for the first year arrivals. Eyeing her down.

“I’ll take them from here Ogg, thank you” Albus called to the group

The children followed the deputy headmaster and were given a suspiciously similar speech to the one given by Mcgonagall in her first year before being led into the great hall.

Candles doted throughout the room with a hall filled with different faces but very much the same atmosphere. All the first years ogled their surroundings in awe. 

Hermione let her eyes drift to Tom as she tuned out the sorting introduction, Riddle had a collected expression, his still eyes showed wonder and greed. She was now one of the few to witness the first time Voldemort ever saw Hogwarts, she didn’t know how to feel.

Albus stood by a stool holding the familiar wrinkled hat and in the other hand a list. The students quieted for the man and he soon spoke.

“Abbot, Vivian”

A small golden haired girl with ringlets bounced up and sat upon the stool.

A moment passed, then…

“GRYFFINDOR”

The hat yelled out and cheering broke out. Once the hall settled again Dumbledore continued.

“Avery, Phincas”

Much to Hermione's shock she recognized the scrawny child as one of the children doting on Malfoy in the quidditch shop.

He skulked up and once the hat was placed over his tightly combed brown hair it settled just below his eyes.

Almost immediately it yelled.

“SLYTHERIN”

And cheering started up again but this time more collected and if possible conceded. Once the hall quieted again Albus looked back down at his list and Hermione caught the briefest of frowns before calling.

“Black, Alphard”

The Blacks were next.

The boy may have been on the quieter side but in no way did it mean he lacked confidence, as he walked up to the hat he exuded calm and poise. He reminded her of a spider, small, subtle, quiet creatures but capable of beautiful work and deadly bites.

The hat deliberated only for a minute, a warning she assumed that meant he was intelligent. It could only be between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, as he was no Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. 

“SLYTHERIN” 

Cheering once more.

That boy must be more than he led on, a dangerous revelation for Hermione.

“Black, Lucretia”

This next child of the house of Black was more like a feather but still an arrogant one, it was odd to watch her struggle over fear from all the attention and believing she was above most inhabitants of the room.

“SLYTHERIN”

Once again the family was known for their diversity, the girls sorting was faster and reassured she was more simple than her two other family members.

Soon it was Walburgas turn and while Hermione had no doubt as to the girls placement it seemed said individual wasn't so sure. She looked ahead steely gaze, fists clenched and more angry than nervous. 

How interesting.

“Black, Walburga”

Steady steps were taken to the stool and a swift turn to face her peers. The hat rested on the girls head neatly and the moment the hat touched her head a visible internal back and forth was exchanged between the hat and child.

Hermione watched as two minutes passed and quiet whispers broke out along with a sweat on Walburgas brow. 

“SLYTHERIN”

Rung in the hall and tense shoulders relaxed unanimously as the girl practically skipped over to her rightful place.

How intriguing, Hermione had no clue as to how close the pure snot came to another house, shame she didn’t lose the fight with the hat. 

“Carrow, Maud”

A burly girl with loose oily braids hobbled up, she looked to be the incarnate if Grettel with brown locks, all that was missing was Hansel.

“SLYTHERIN”

It seemed the hat was picking up the pace with sorting the others.

“Fawley, Eustace” 

The boy from the quidditch shop bounced up and now was surprisingly candy free as he practically vibrated in the chair. 

“HUFFLEPUFF”

Hermione hid surprise at the revelation that Malfoy had to suck up to a family that had Hufflepuffs, that must be what physically pained him about being civil with the boy.

“Fleamont, Ignatius”

Her head snapped in the boys direction.

Fleamont… was this a relative of Harry? The boy had copper hair and the face of an advertisement, the ideal little boys face, not as handsome as Riddle sure but still clean cut. 

“RAVENCLAW”

She watched as the boy made his way to his cheering table and excitedly shake the hands of a few peers. 

She took a mental note of the kid and looked back forward only for her heart drop as the room quieted once more.

“Granger, Hermione”

All eyes turned to her, a sea of strangers in a place so familiar to her. The moment was surreal, to be where she was doing what she was. She had to be mad, just a little bit at least.

She slowly made her way to the stool, all the eyes in the hall were on her and she wasn't sure if it was just paranoia but she swore she heard people whispering. Harsh quick whispers, ones of judgement for a presumed muggleborn. 

Once she reached the seat she turned to face the whole hall and sat soon feeling the hat once again block her view. 

She could feel the fabric shudder

‘A child… but not. A Killer! But not. Two claims both valid but at the same time invalid. A dark magic has brought you here that much I know Ms Granger. 

If it were up to me I’d send you off and out of these grounds, you’d have no place among these children. But I must choose, a house that is. But I feel none fit you dear girl. I can feel your confusion, your mistake is assuming Slytherin is your place, because all dark witches and wizards go there? No, no, I think not! No, ambition, loyalty, creativity, or chivalry. You belong nowhere. 

But I must choose, yes a choice still must be made, but on what grounds? They think I can’t choose between your qualities, but I can’t find any! 

Bah, You are bound to all colour, so with them you shall go…' 

Filthy, musted hat! Mothballs must fill his brain! Hermione fumed.

“SLYTHERIN” The hat screamed, while the result was what she expected the reasons were a surprise.

At first a slow clap for her but once it was clear two pairs of confident aristocratic hands were proudly clapping for her the rest followed suit after the clear approval from two powerful peers. Malfoy was grinning ear to ear staring dead at her while Walburga kept a dignified look but a smug pleased one nonetheless. 

Hermione made her way over to Walburga and the two other Blacks, once she settled in she tuned out the rest of the sorting… that was until Tom.

“Riddle, Tom”

More stares and whispers.

Walburga took that time to spew venom.

Scoffing drew Hermione's attention to Walburga as the girl eyed Tom as a particularly nasty sight.

“Look at those second hand robes, are muggles unable to afford decent, no, tolerable articles of clothing?”

The girl looked over to her and she could feel her insides burn.

“It's an affront to the eyes” Alphard deadpanned, no smugness coated his words only genuine belief and opinion. 

“Exactly, and his name- Which reminds me Hermione-”

Whatever the girl was going to say died as quickly as the hats decision.

“SLYTHERIN”

Silence, she assumed waiting to see if another noteworthy pureblood would mark approval for a second time.

Then.

Unrest broke out in the Slytherin table as its inhabitants barely contained themselves to a whisper. 

If Riddle felt distraught over this it made no show on his expression and he made his way to the table calmly.

The tables inner debate didn’t cool and as it became clear the house was not intent on welcoming its new member the hall erupted in loud argument.

As the only nonparticipating student Hermione noticed Dippet attempting and failing to make himself heard, his frail vocal cords drowned out.

“QUIET, ALL OF YOU QUIET” Boomed over the children and attention locked onto one Albus Dumbledore with his wand to his throat and face marred with frown lines. 

“Dippet” Albus motioned to the older man who nodded in thanks.

The ancient man rasped “If you all are unable to control yourself, and welcome all who learn within these halls then, well i'm afraid I’ll have to send you all off to bed without dinner tonight to reflect on your behavior”

More outrage broke out and Dippet held up a wrinkled hand for silence. It took several minutes to quiet the hall once more.

Hermione looked over at Tom who sat further down from her, the seats around him empty with those around him leaning away. The boy, still, had no visible reaction but seemed paler than usual and a clenched jaw. She only noticed because of the years spent with him.

“I see” Armando said sadness prickling his eyes.

“Will all house prefects please lead first years-”

Louder outrage erupted.

“WHY DO WE ALL HAVE TO SUFFER- JUST BECAUSE THE SNAKES ARE INTOLERANT GITS-” 

And even more loud unrest continued.

“Lead first years back to-” Dippet tried again over the chaos.

“JUST PUNISH THEM, EVERYONE ELSE DEALS WITH MUGGLEBORNS IN OUR HOUSES” 

The comments were beginning to make her sick. All this was exposing was how muggleborns were really viewed in the magical world. Hermione could feel her blood burning and her fist was turning white.

“HEAD BACK TO YOUR DORMS ALL OF YOU, PREFECTS LEAD THE FIRST YEARS. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE STILL UNSORTED, STAY BEHIND” Dumbledore boomed once more.

The hall seemed neutered and begrudgingly begun to get up.

Walburga grabbed her hand once more and tugged her up.

“Lets go-” she glared first Riddles then Albus’ way.

“I guess even Hogwarts isn't safe from this self-righteous attitude anymore. They act as if they actually believe that rubbish, honestly” She shook her head and pulled her out.

Hermione memorized the path from the dungeons to the Slytherin common room, she had a feeling she would need to show Riddle the way, and maybe sneak some food from the kitchens. Maybe give him some too, even she could see he had a rough enough day for a fraction of care... or maybe she was still too sensitive about blood prejudice.

Either way it wasn’t a bad idea to make a peace offering to the boy. 

She wanted to keep her head after all.

 

 

 

Scotland Hogwarts, 2 September 1938

 

Helping Riddle out went as well as it could be expected. He seemed to want to make it less that she was giving him food and more like he was taking it. The same went for her showing him the dorm and password, she wasn't helping he was giving her no choice. Or at least that was what he wanted it to be, to soothe his sore ego. It was feeling like the third time she was telling herself she wasn't going to ‘help’ him again. She had to go out of her way to sneak out to find him and all the thanks she got was his little viper strikes of snark.

Even after she watched him make his way into the common room she had to wait till teachers were doing rounds before she could sneak back in. She went off to find Riddle after her dorm mates got ready for bed and was pleased to find them all still slumbering peacefully once she returned.

Hermione sat in her new, cold and dreary, dorm. Flicking the edge of her schedule for her ‘first year’ at Hogwarts. The other girls in the dorm were fast asleep and only a small dim candle sat by the paper on the finely carved dark wooden desk. In her peripheral the candle flickered while darkness surrounded her in encroaching darkness, the only thing in the world being her small desk and paper. The light fizzing sound of the wick in the candle burning took up her thoughts as her mind engulfed her surroundings. No thoughts or reaction just the room filled her head, she could hear the slight shifting of a child turning in their sheets but then only silence. 

Heavy exhaustion pulled her down deeper as warmth wrapped around her snugly, calling her to sleep. 

Hermione let her heavy lidded eyes close and the sting in her eyes flooded with relief at the soothing feeling.

All the while a dull ache grew in her palm. 

Such calm moments were rare for her recently, something to be valued. She let herself drift further and her breathing slowed. 

Catching himself slightly she cracked her eyes open just barely.

But all that greeted her blurry sight was splotchy darkness hurtling towards her. Hermione felt herself instinctively flinch back but it was as if what hurtled towards her swept her up without missing a beat, before her back could even hit the ground.

Everything looked as if she had violently rubbed her eyes until she was submerged in blotches completely. Her body felt cold and weightless. 

Was she that tired, why hadn’t she hit the floor yet?

Blotchiness still invaded her being but muffled words soon made themselves known, it was a similar sound to hearing her fathers late night news from downstairs while she tried to sleep. Muffled with a fuzzy quality but reverberated within the wall with static. And like walking down the stairs to tell him to turn it down the quality of the sound became crisper and with time, slowly, her sight cleared.

“Now I know this is a bother but I only have to ask, a few, simple, questions.” A man with a charming chipper tone spoke, each word deliberate and carefully enunciated every word (with a slight foreign lilt).

The speakers face cleared and the scene before her was in a musty backroom and an immaculate man facing her view with an unsettlingly warm, practiced, look with sparkling white teeth grinning wide at her. The person the man spoke to had their back to her and had a mass of tangled hair and a lumbering frame. 

Neither seemed to notice her apparent corporeal presence.

“Er’ um I s’pose its no trouble-” the burly man spoke, something about it familiar.

“Wonderful” The immaculate man drawled with a cat like purr to his tone, in overly sweet coating.

“Yer not from the ministry, are y-” The mass of beard was interrupted once again.

“No, no. There is no need for worry, I only represent a small group that has taken interest in recent events at this shop”

There was a pause of silence between them before the interviewer laughed prompting the beard to respond.

“Supos’ it's no trouble” the man shifted in his seat. 

“Now there's no need to be nervous- it's not as if your on trial.” The way the immaculate man said it had a pleasure in his tone and he chuckled as the other man nervously followed in more of a dry heave. 

“Don’t worry friend, why look so tense. These are only mandatory, mean nothing at all, I just need to get them out of the way so I can wrap up my business here and get out of your hair as soon as possible.” The pristine smile returned as the man animatedly spoke every word, with uncanny enjoyment radiating off of him. 

The interrogator rested his wrists on the table and leaned in.

“Ah before we start could I ask for some water, my throat-” he cleared said throat and the burly man summoned a glass in a slow motion.

“Thank you” the foreign man said lifting his tone at the end.

He took a slow long sip and in no rush placed the cup perfectly on the corner. Looking up and smiling brightly he spoke.

“Refreshing”

Another pause, the interviewer stared intently at the empty space Hermione occupied and squinting slightly. She squirmed in place as the intense stare of the man was too much even when not fully focusing on her. 

As if snapped out of a trance the same pearly smile snapped into place and he darted his eyes back to the other man in the room.

“Sorry about that, you don’t happen to have a familiar do you?”

“Erm’ yes I s’pose my owl Fredric, why d’you ask” the burly man was hesitant to respond, seemingly unsure if it was a trick.

“Ah, lovely. May I ask what kind” 

“A dark Strix owl”

“What energetic creatures they are, truly lovely. Are you close with it, I only ask because most people aren't very close with owls on average” 

“Yes” the burly man deepened his voice and sat straighter at the question.

“Good… Oh my, I seem to have gotten off topic, sorry about that” He pulled out a file and started flipping through papers till he halted at one page and swiftly pulled the paper out.

“Now I believe it was this date and these items that were purchased, or am I mistaken” The interviewer slid over a few papers.

Hermione tried to see what they said by peeking over the burly mans shoulder but before she could catch a glimpse the hairy man shoved them back.

“It’sall there”

“Wonderful, wonderful” the immaculate man chirped and in one quick motion straitened the papers and perfectly placed them to the side.

“You know sometimes, I wonder if I’ve mixed the papers up or have the wrong information. It drives me mad, do you ever have that” The man joked and smiled expectantly at the hairy man.

“I s’pose” His voice was deep and he shrugged his lumbering shoulders.

The other man chuckled as he responded. “Yes, I can imagine with all the clutter here. I can see how you would get lost in all of it. But you're still here so you must remember where everything is”

“I- Yes I would guess so”

The interviewer nodded “I have all these-” he gestured in a swatting motion “cases, so many people think it impossible to keep up with… but do you know why, I accept so many”

The other man shook his head.

“Because I’ve never once been wrong, you could say my gut instinct is, how do you say it, the saying” the man motioned for the other man to finish.

“Trust your gu-”

“Trust my gut, that's it! I accept so many because all these papers-” He swiped them across the table.

He leaned in conspiratorially “Useless, all I need is the case and I know”

“Now sometimes I get this nagging, this mad feeling.”

“How's that?” the hairy mans voice shook.

The foreign man pointed at the man and shook his hand with a grin. “I'm glad you asked. Because I may be right in my gut, but the files… I’ll be talking to someone and well the file says one thing, but the person. Well they say another.”

The lumbering man sat frozen, silent and unmoving.

The interviewer pulled a paper from a thick book and let a finger smack onto it. 

The mans tone swiftly changed to quick and toneless “14 October, four days ago. Its written that you have little to no knowledge of this-”

He tossed something she recognized onto the table with a loud metal clang. The same medallion she had for only a few minutes lay sprawled on the tables surface.

“Now if I do just the slightest amount of digging, can you tell me with certainty that I will find nothing to contradict that statement” the man eyed the one across from him down with a look that even made Hermione shrink in her spot.

“I- Um” She could hear the burly man swallow and cringed as he clearly hid nothing.

“I only ask because” He pulled a paper out of the pile spewn across the table.

“It says here you have no recollection about how the item ended up in your possession and that it was stolen from you, not purchased”

The two men sat silent and unflinching, one visibly stiff the other like a lion waiting still behind tall grass. Neither made the first move and both waited for the other.

In the long pause Hermione took the opportunity to move from her spot, slowly to see the other mans face.

From the side she recognized him immediately and stopped dead in her tacks as she stared at the shop owner from diagon alley, the same one who sold her the medallion. 

Before she could witness the rest of the questioning her consciousness was ripped from her once more. 

With a sudden jerk she woke on the floor with light filtering through the window to the black lake and an extinguished candle sitting on the desk above her. 

It was morning.

Hermione slowly pushed herself up and the soreness of sleeping on the ground was not pardoned for her. She ran her hand through her matted greasy hair while brushing off dust from the stone floor off her cheek. Luckily all of her dorm mates were still sleeping soundly so she quietly made her way to the washroom.

While Slytherin may have been filled with pure blooded snobs the bathing facilities were unimpressive compared to the common room furnishings. It seemed the snakes were ill prepared when it came to modern plumbing. 

Mold and water damage coated the pipes and some even oozed, with what looked to be some of the earliest forms of toilets and plumbing. The sink and shower were bare with chipping paint. 

Hermione stripped herself and apprehensively stepped under the shower faucet. She turned the right faucet slowly and a sudden barrage of freezing water hit her with a loud spitting noise. The surprise caused her to flail and slip on the slimy ground beneath her. After a furious battle with the two handles trying to balance the temperature and the small dance she had to do around the water stream she settled on a slightly chilly shower and got to quickly rubbing her head with soap a tad violently.

After her quick shower and morning prep she stepped out of the bath to just barely wrap her towel around herself when a yawning disheveled Carrow shuffled in. 

Yawning the girl spoke “Up so early, I wanted to sleep in but I guess that won’t happen…”

The girl could only get in a light glare with her half awake state but looked pointedly at Hermione.

“I’m a light sleeper” she continued again pointedly directing her glare at Hermione.

“Ah, well you’re free to use the bathroom now” Hermione deadpanned and walked out leaving the ruffled girl.

Getting dressed took no time at all and Hermione took the time the early hours provided to head to the library. 

Padding down the sleepy stone hallways she let out a breath of excitement. The Hogwarts library had for years provided her a place of comfort and use. She had lost count of the numerous times the information in that place had likely saved Harry's life. And now she had no issue making use of the restricted section this time around. She would soon need to begin her search in finding a way to convince a thesteral of handing over a few hairs. 

The more she thought about it the more she believed she needed the express consent of the creature to actually make a functioning wand out of it.

Only one wand appeared to have a thestral core and now she needed to convince one of making a second.

How fun.

After her shower and quiet walk to the library she finally had no choice but to turn her attention to her dream that night.

Could it even be called a dream?

The whole scene was eerily familiar to her, who were the two men. It was said people only dream of faces they've seen so why didn’t she recognize the other. It was too specific to be a person who she passed on the street. But the more she thought about it the less it made sense. 

It seemed too real to be a dream, too foreboding to be forgotten.


End file.
